Such a long gap, because I spilled some apple and mango juice on my laptop. It made plaintive squeaking noises at first, then packed up. I felt bereft. Then I was away firstly with sister J in Germany midst snow and ice and then for a week in the Isle of Wight and only today have I managed to get it mended.   Oh what a relief.  It is like being reunited with an old friend after a long absence.
Christmas was its usual mixture of anxious shopping expeditions, feelings of great guilt because I had forgotten a card or a present for someone, and either too much food and drink, or running out of essentials like milk or bread or loo paper.   And then there are the lovely moments when I looked at the whole tribe gathered together and think what a good lot they are, and how glad I am to be amongst them all.    The present opening was the usual flurry of wrapping paper (mostly the Guardian in my case) and proudly announcing that we had bought the gift from Oxfam, Help the Aged or the PDSA  charity shops.  Calpol, Paracetamol and Neurofen was dispensed four hourly to various members of the family but we all remained cheerful and enjoyed ourselves. The weather improved just in time, even those from the far North arrived safely.
I have had some good reads lately: The Help by Kathryn Stockett,  Remarkable Creatures by Tracey Chevalier, and Seven Days in December by Sebastian Foulkes , all winners.

Poor grand daughters M and G were kettled yesterday while they were peacefully demonstrating against the tuition fees being raised.   They were upset by the violence.  M`s `occupation`of her College is now over.   They cleaned and tidied everything up beautifully and went back to their Halls.. What a relief.
I am off to foreign parts on Sunday, so I have to face the dreaded task of wrapping up Christmas presents. I do not have the present wrapping gene, it is odd as brother P ands sister J have it, it has missed me entirely. I can`t cope with cellotape or labels or any type of paper.  I am always very ashamed of my parcels.

the more it smows tiddly pom

I decided I had better try to move the car which is almost completely obliterated by snow in the street outside. I have enough food for myself but the cat has turned against the cheap offer cat food I bought in Lidl, so I was going to brave the elements and go to Hassocks.   When I swept the snow off the top, it became even more stuck. How long will the big freeze last I wonder.  I am perfectly happy indoors, doing Christmas cards and popping over to our lovely post office to send them off. And the village looks beautiful with snow and icicles and hardly any traffic at all.
The Ditchling Choir was supposed to be singing at the Dome in Brighton tomorrow. Alas, it has been cancelled. So I will have another day at home but I can get on with my memoirs.  I am trying to think of a title : `Nothing Much Happened` perhaps.

Conversations with six year old T yesterday:  Are you coming to my Christmas play at school?  Me: Is it about baby Jesus?  T: No it`s about Aliens.
T: Vick who is in charge of the whole world?   Me: I`m not sure.  T Perhaps it`s us.
It looks very pretty in Ditchling with all the snow, but I dare not drive over the beacon on the icy roads. I am going to stay indoors and write Christmas cards and make useful lists of Things to Do before Christmas.  I am looking forward to it.

Christmas Resolutions

I have made one or two decisions about Christmas:
1.NO fancy wrapping paper, I will wrap all presents up in the Guardian, and stick pictures on them cut out from my eightieth birthday cards and Good Luck in your New Home cards.
2.I will not make a Christmas cake with burnt currants round the outside and marzipan that nobody eats.
3.I will make an enormous quantity of mince pies and freeze them as they always come in useful
4.I will not go into WH Smiths, Boots, or Marks and Spencers until the New Year.

Grand daughter M is on a Sit In at UCL and texted me to say she would not be coming home this Friday after all as they are having `negotiations with management` This fills me with alarm even though I have been saying I am proud of my grand children going on demos as I used to do.
I have been busy lately writing my memoirs though that seems a grandiose term for an account of my uneventful unremarkable life.  The problem is, what do you put in and more importantly what do you leave out?  No good just writing about the good times.

I am just back from four nights away staying with two separate pairs of octegenarian friends. We exchange symptoms: deafness, arthritis, memory loss, insomnia,cramp, the list is endless, but we are all cheerful and enjoy life, and I had a good time.    Back today after over threehundred miles altogether of luscious English countryside with lots of interesting radio 4 en route.  The cat greets me rapturously and it is good to be home. 
I have just waded through the post, emails, and December`s issue of the Odie magazine which makes me laugh.      H whom I stayed with has given me one of his paintings and with the post was a self portrait from dear friend E  so I have two lovely new pictures to hang on my sitting room wall tomorrow. All the pictures in my house are painted by my friends and family. They give me great pleasure.

Another film, another year.

I went to see Mike Leigh`s new film Another Year yesterday afternoon and as usualI am totally immersed in the characters and story today, trying to work out in my mind whether the two main actors were really the kind good people that they seemed to be, or if they had to surround themselves with needy,disfunctional hangers on to survive. As a background, the film shows the four seasons on their London allotment, with them working in all weathers, and I found that very moving.
I am interested to hear that the Queen is now on Facebook too, so another octegenarian is poking and writing on walls with the rest of us.  I gather that any offensive messages are edited out by her lackeys.
Today in the Guardian, there are pictures of the students revolt yesterday and granddaughter M has texted to ask me to save them as she made some of the posters.  I am glad that two granddaughters have taken on the mantle of going on demos. I have recently given up after about forty years due to my feet which are no longer up to shuffling along Whitehall.  

no news is bad news

I went to the Ditchling Film Society last night in the Village Hall to see The White Ribbon, a surreal German film :a whoduunit where you never found out whodunnit, partly a ghost story and with a cast of strange children and sinister characters.  This morning, there was a bus queue sitting on the wall outside the chemist next door, and we all discussed the film. That is what I like about this village. There is always someone about for a chat.
There is a strike today of journalists (it makes me remember my dad who was a keen member of his union the NUJ) so there was no Today programme, no World at One and no Five oclock News programme either. I feel very bereft, I am so accustomed to it burbling on with all the familiar voices. I hope they are all back tomorrow.
   

summertime has ended

I wrote this last year, forgive me if you have read it before:

Tonight we have the changing
of the clocks.
Spring forward, fall back? But for me
I could just as easily fall forwards.

The all knowing God inside my laptop
gets it right, unlike Quakers
who arrive early for Meeting,
babies, garden birds and cats, puzzled
when their breakfast is delayed.

Autumn gathers momentum straight away.
All too soon there`s crumpets, winter vests,
hot water bottles, Christmas trees in Tescos,
as we move from British Summertime
to Greenwich Meantime,
devised originally to regulate the drinking time
of the feckless working class, and for a politician
who liked horse riding before breakfast.

In Brighton, they had all night activities: Life Drawing in the Meeting House, swimming at the Prince Regent, theatres, music and dancing. all around the city.  I meant to go and participate,but during the evening I went to a concert in Haywards Heath (I got lost in the vicious one way system, and had a large number of HH residents on the case)  It was Julie Roberts from Ditchling Meeting singing and playing guitar and keyboards, and also some other excellent musicians. I was so moved and overwhelmed by her beautiful performance and sat spellbound, so did not want to go to the White Night in Brighton as I needed time to think about it all.

I have been back in Winchester all week which is why this blog has not been written. When i go there, I have a `cafe life,` meeting friends in teashops, pubs, and cafes.  It is surprising how long we can sit, talking ten to the dozen ( that is an odd phrase what does it mean?) over one cup of coffee.  Since getting back, I have spent a couple of hours catching up on emails and ansaphone messages, not to mention the dreaded Face book which is getting a bit out of hand.    Life is changing all the time, all this would never have happened quite a short time ago. 
I have decided that I will not have things in my house that I do not use. I am going to be ruthless. Old poeple have too much stuff.  This is after staying with dear friend B in Winchester. She does not have email so she will not read this and be offended.

I have discovered that many teenagers get upset when they are`unfriended` on Facebook. One more thing to worry about.  At present, I get new friends popping up daily, but I still feel mystified by the whole process.
I went to the Ditchling Community Choir on Sunday. Such a treat.  All the pop songs I like but never knew the words. I have a splendid book of songs that I can sing with gusto all around the house.  A great advantage of living alone as there is no one to tell you shut up. 
I went to Brighton yesterday on the once a week bus. I finally found out where it stops and when. It was full of old girls like me going to Marks and Spencers in Churchill Square. I have decided I need one of those push along shopping baskets. I may as well give in to it and get the right kit.  
Oh how awful the news is, I can hardly bear to read the Guardian today. I feel guilty that they have not made any cuts for OAP`s yet. I could easily do without the winter fuel allowance and sit with a hot water bottle under my jumper.

Almost by default, I find myself on Facebook, (it was because E had posted photos of my party on it)  It is very odd, I now seem to have an inordinate amount of friends,  popping up all over the place, poking, and writing on walls, I find it heart warming, but I am not sure that I am doing it properly, and I need a toddler somewhere to give me some instruction. I am afraid of hurting someone`s feelings by not replying to a poke.
I have had my dear friend and ex neighbour M staying for a few days which is why I have not written this blog. We have been on the trail of Vanessa Bell, Virginia Wolf and Duncan Grant and co again. Gloomy Rodmell where Virginia lived and wrote, and the place where she put the stones in her pockets and waded into the river, Charleston where they all hung out at various times.  Many of the other visitors looked Bloomsbury-ish too with green shoes and funny felt hats. We also went to Alfriston to the very first National Trust place,The Clergy House.   The village has the more crafty gift shoppes that I have ever seen, but all very tasteful and expensive.
The night before we went to the untasteful popcorny cinema at Brighton Marina to see `Made in Dagenham`. We both cried. Those brave women striking for equal pay for women.  Would I have had that courage?

I am now a happy octegenarian and can sit on those seats at the front of the bus esignated `For the Elderly` without feeling guilty, and I could also buy myself an elegant stick and wave it around in Marks and Spencers for attention., but maybe not yet.
On Sunday, the barn on Ditchling village green was thronged with Darlings of all shapes and sizes from ten month old little Arthur to many of the older generations  (including my sister, brother and sister in law who are also darlings with a small d)  Also many old friends made long treks to get here and in deluging rain, but it did not damp our spirits.  There was a family `band` which played such lively music that several of us did a bit of dancing. In the end, only five dogs came and all behaved impeccably.   
I do truly believe that parties are very good things to hold, go to, plan, remember.  They are hard work and there is always a moment when you think, Oh why did I ever have this silly idea, I must have been mad, but ultimately it is all worth while.

Just time to write this before going to Meeting, a change for me from wrting Lists Of Things To Do, like don`t forget black rubbish bags, cricket bat and balloons to put on the gate, for next weekend.    I put `dogs welcome` on the invitations to my 8oth birthday do and  at the last count there were nine, all very well behaved animals of course, but I hope they get on. I am looking forward to seeing my dear sister who is coming to stay which will give me some moral support, but it is all a bit of a worry.
Yesterday I did my usual Saturday stint at Brighton Meeting House.  The main event was a chess match between Dieppe and Brighton, so it was a quiet afternoon. I had a request from one player for some chocolate as he said he needed it to concentrate, but otherwise they were an undemanding group. There is a constant stream of people wandering in, a mother with a baby with tummy ache (!), people who want to know what Quakers are, gentlemen of the road who want a cup of tea, two sugars. 
Grand daughter M went off to Uni in London yesterday, her usually slightly chaotic bedroom looked so bleak and empty but she has sent me a cheery text this morning.   
 

red shoes

Last night I watched the service on TV from Westminster Abbey for the Pope. The chap with the incense got rather carried away, the poor little choir boys were almost obliterated in holy smoke.  I was intrigued to see that the Pope was wearing bright red pointy shoes, and the Archbishop of Canterbury was wearing a large yellow lamp shade on his head.  How these chaps do love to dress up.    Having said all this, it was a moving and beautiful event and I joined in all the hymns with gusto, which alarmed the cat.
I have moved all the furniture round again in my front room and it looks much bigger.  One of the advantages of living alone is that you can do things like that late on a Friday night and there is no one to moan and say `must you?` Perhaps I will stay in Ditchling after all.
It is J`s birthday party tomorrow and we all have to wear red ( like the Pope`s shoes?) and bring red food, such as Heinz tomato soup and strawberries.  I must trawl the charity shops for a suitable outfit.

and did those feet?

I am reasonably fit for my eighty almost years except for my terrible feet.  I thought I had made a breakthrough when I was in Winchester as I found some idylically comfortable shoes and bought two identical pairs, but alas, they too have joined the pile ofexcruciating ones in my cupboard.  I am amazed that modern science has not come up with something.   I just have to go everywhere on my bike, hills and all.  They have also come up with a new illness: `mild cognitive impairment` or brain shrinkage, one more thing to worry about and apparently vitamin B is good. So I am heaping the Marmite on my breakfast toast and probably pushing up the blood pressure with all the extra salt.....
One problem has been solved: I now have a writing group at daughter J`s house with three of her friends and we take turns to be a tutor. It was nice and hilarious last Friday. I also have a Baroquey sort of music group, and there is going to be a Ditchling choir starting up, nothing highbrow like the old days with Bach`s B minor Mass etc, but songs from the shows, lovely.   

Just back from almost a week in Winchester.  I feel like St Peter`s toe in Rome, I have been so continually kissed , by friends, residents, ex residents, assorted Quakers, even Barry in the paper shop looked as if he might. It was heartwarming to be welcomed back and I did enjoy it.  But it was good too to get back to Ditchling and the ecstatic cat, and my comfortable bed.
My main reason for going was the leaving party of my dear neighbours, D and M who are moving Up North next Monday.  I also helped them a bit, mostly with packing up pictures of which they have an extraordinary large amount.  Interesting what we all hang up on our walls, once up there we are stuck with them for ever, and we hardly look at them. I got rid of most of mine and now I slightly regret it.
I am starting to get worried about my birthday party. I had one of those anxiety dreams last night when there was not enough food. Suppose it rains on the village green?  We will all be stuck in a dark barn, suppose nobody comes?

I have been looking for a choir since I moved here and nice P sent an email about a womens singing group in Hove. I went last Thursday and it was  totally unlike what I had expected which was a church hall with thirty or so assorted women.  In fact it was in one of those high white Regency flats on the sea front and I went up in a cranky antiquated iron lift to an extraordinary room full of religious pictures and buddhas and instuments and there were only four of us.  I liked it though, as we sang interesting harmonies and rhythms, African songs, a Leonard Cohen song, I think I will go again.   I am still looking for a regular writing and reading group.
I also went to help at the Brighton Meeting House on Saturday, several dossers, rogues, in and out of the garden and they have rough sleepers coming at night, and all the usual lot inside :AA, Al Anon, spirititual healers, I felt so at home with it all.      
It is Bank Holiday weekend and I always feel as if everybody else is doing something exciting.  I have just been lolling about all afternoon reading the Observer.   Some of my family are at a festival in the Midlands and they will come home tomorrow all covered in mud. 

There has been an overwhelming response to my last dismal blog, with lots of cheery messages, so that I feel thoroughly ashamed of myself.   One of the snags of living in Ditchling is that there are hardly any buses and I had been looking forward to exciting outings to places like Eastbourne or Tunbridge Wells, sitting dreamily on a bus with my packet of sandwiches and my free bus pass, but this is not to be.  I try to go for a cycle ride most days but the hills are ferocious, and I can hardly even walk up let alone cycle to the top.
I have been trying to plan my eightieth birthday party which is a worry.  I do love parties and like planning them but there is always that fear that there will not be enough food or drink,or that  no one will come, or that they won`t enjoy themselves and when the invitation arrives they will say Oh my God, do we have to go? Grand daughter M is doing the invitations for me so the die is cast, have to go through with it now. 

ditchling dumps

Well it was bound to happen.  I keep thinking why did I ever leave lovely Winchester and all my mates?  I had a visit from dear E and S on Friday, so perhaps that was the start, as it was so good to see them and talk and talk.   Also the my Brighton family are still away on the Island.    I have spent a lot of time on my own and I am just Not Used To It.  I wish I still  had a job, but who wants to employ an eighty year old with dodgy feet and ankles?   And that`s another worry.   Do I want to have a big eightieth birthday party?  Can`t make up my mind.  One minute I want to push the boat out and hire the Barn on the Village Green and have a band, or the lovely Art gallery opposite,or a more sober celebtration in the Quaker Meeting House, but the thought of making a dozen or so quiches and puddings is daunting.
This morning I went to the house of one of the artists whom I sat for a few weeks ago and played my cello  in a little baroque group. I did enjoy it and they have asked me to go again, but I felt I made a horrible scratchy noise maybe due to my dodgy arthritic thumbs.  I am resolved to practise more.
And I think I will try to go on some interesting free bus trips to cheer myself up.

I wish I enjoyed train travel more. I know it is better for the environment, but I would far rather sit in my car with radio four, even in a traffic jam, than endure the vagaries of British rail, especially when travelling with a bike which sometimes had to be  carried up and down steps. There were babies crying (how I longed to pick one up and use my baby pacifying techniques) loud mobile conversations, ipods tinny music,other people`s packed lunches, nowhere to sit.  I was so glad to get safely home yesterday.  But I had lovely times in the Isle of Wight and Bristol. I managed the climb up and down the cliffs with helping hands (and also sliding on my bottom) and I had one swim in the sea. I love being with three generations of my dear family. Then I was in Bristol with son and daughter in law fron US in a beautiful flat looking over the river.  I saw two films which was a treat: Coco Chanel and Igor Stravinski, (visually stunning) and Inception which was all about dreams within dreams within dreams, a bit violent at times for an elderly Quaker but it was thought provoking , I also read two books while I was away: Little Stranger by Sarah Walters and The Other hand by Chris Cleave both of which I got totally in to and felt bereaved when I finished them.
Gordon is still mucking about in my miniscule back yard making a mess.  He always promises `it will all be finished tomorrow`.  I practised my cello for an hour this morning so perhaps that will finally put him off. It sounded pretty awful.

Since my last, I have survived : falling off my bike into a huge bed of nettles from which I had to be ignominously hauled out, walking to the top of Ditchling Beacon with dear D who came to stay, (it was very steep the last bit)  joining an Aquafit class which was in deep water with weights on me ( I do not think I will go again) and in the meantime I am still trying to chivvy Garden Wrecking Gordon who turns up for an hour or so on most days and creates chaos.  But he has soundproofed my back yard with a barrier above the garden gate so I forgive him.   I can now eat my breakfast outside in comparative peace. Also he is going to feed the cat when I  go to join the Darling Tribe for the annual exodus to the Isle of Wight.  Will I still be able to scramble down the cliffs for a swim at Compton Bay I wonder?    

Arty outing

Miggy came yesterday and after lunch we went to Firle near Charleston Farmhouse where the Bloomsbury set hung out. It is a beautiful village with a perfect shop and post office and many cottages had vegetables, home made bread, jam,, flowers, outside and a pot to put your money in. We went to the church as we thought it was the one that Duncan and Vanessa Bell and co had decorated with their paintings but it was the wrong one. But there was a lovely John Piper window with some happy sleeping sheep and also the vicar there is the one that is always on the telly  Peter Owen Jones of `Around the World in 8o Faiths etc and you could feel his energy.       So we went on to Berwick Church a few miles away and there were the paintings in all their glory, and a path full of the best hollyhocks I have ever seen. Also sculpture by Sarah Walton, so we went on to her studio up Bo Peep Lane, and had good chats with her and looked at her work.  Amongst other things she makes salt- glazed pottery ash containers for people, dogs and cats. You would have to be either very rich or inordinately fond of your cat to buy one of those.    

Gordon is making a terrible mess in my backyard but promises to clear it all up tomorrow.I notice that he has started painting the inside of the kitchen wiindows and doors as well as the outside. Yesterday a gust of wind blew a large pot of paint off an upstairs window sill, so there was great pallaver clearing that up.   The traffic is very noisy up and down the road outside.  Gordon says it will cost two thousand pounds to do double glazing and think of the mess he would make in my front room!  I think I will put up with the noise.
I sat for the Art Group again yesterday.  I was a bit shocked when I peeped at the results. I looked a real old crone but never mind.   They like me as a model as I am used to sitting still in Quaker meetings.  I pick up all sorts of useful tips about bus times, swimming pools, and local gossip.  It is very interesting.

Away for the whole weekend with the Quakes at Park Place at Wickham, at a convent run by a small group of  elderly Carmelite nuns. I feel so safe with a large group of Q`s: they are my tribe. We  did slightly dotty things: North American Salute to the Sun on the lawn before breakfast (I fully intend to do this every morning as it is so invigorating, but forgot today, not a good start)  African Drumming, Contemplative Walking, Singing from the Spirit (absolutely lovely that was) Circle Dancing, as well as earnest talks and discussions.  Everybody asked how I was enjoying retirement. Their faces fell when I said that I like it here. `Don`t you miss us?` they cried, `Don`t you miss the Meeting House?  Of course I do and it was so good to be with them all again, but I have to say that Ditchling is a friendly place to live and I feel quite settled in my new home.
The cat was pleased to see me back as the nice teenager who is my cat feeder locked his keys inside the house. She did not seem hungry so perhaps she has found another cat flap to got through for food.
I am off to the Unitarian Meeting House this afternoon for the Monday Club end ot season party. Life is one whirl of gaiety and pleasure here in Ditchling. 

I spend a lot of time driving around getting lost, I do it daily at present.  Kind people invite me to their homes and I do not listen properly when they give me directions. Yesterday I went to West Hoathley instead of East Hoathley (and they are oddly about twenty miles apart) I had the whole village on the case trying to find  `number four near the village shop` as there had not been a shop there for years.   The night before it had been an obscure street in Hove, the previous day, the bicycle shop in Burgess Hill.  I have irate drivers hooting at me as I dither at roundabouts, I am a Driving Hazard.
On Wednesday, I sat for the Art Class.  I had imagined that I could read my book or do the Guardian Crossword, but no, they wanted to grill me about the Quakers for two hours.  I do not think I made any converts. 

More long drives last weekend, every time I go anywhere it is an extra 70 miles....    I went to Limpley Stoke which is such a beautiful name for a village, to a  birthday party for old friends P and J. On the way back on Sunday I broke the journey for a Goodbye Tea at the Meeting House in Winchester for D aged 92 who is going into a Home.  There they all were under the magnolia tree, with the scones and tasty cakes, the Quakes can always be relied on for a cracking good tea.    The Meeting House and garden looked exactly the same, no changes since I left.
I am having a very packed week. Visitors each day, chiropodist on Thursday, Brighton MH on Friday, and I am sitting for the Art Group tomorrow (fully clothed, I hasten to add) There is another birthday party tomorrow evening in Brighton where we are all expected to do a `turn` Then away for the weekend with the Quakes at a Convent.

Life is never dull in Ditchling

Just back from the Monday Club annual outing. We went on the Bluebell Line, but do not ask me where, as I have no idea. Sussex villages with unfamiliar names flashed by amidst a cloud of steam and smoke as we ate our delicious cream tea aboard the train. I felt young and skittish leaping nimbly on and off, as most had zimmers and sticks (the shape of things to come I fear)    The next event in two weeks time is the annual summer party, with music, in the Unitarian Meeting House garden.  There were earnest discussions as to who will be making the salmon sandwiches and who is doing the coffee walnut sponge and also the cheese scones and strawberries. I can hardly wait. It is good to be old in Ditchling.
I joined the Public Library in Hassocks this morning.  What a cheery place.  I do not need any books, this house is full of books I have not yet read, but I do love the ambience of public libraries and the board with all the notices about exciting village events.
An odd thing. I came back to find a lovely box of fruit and vegetables on the table. Cherries, strawberries, bananas, beetroot, lettuce, masses of stuff.  The only person with a key is Gordon the builder who did not turn up with the frail youth this morning after all. How strange. 

Oh me, of little faith.......

It is Saturday evening and in spite of  my dire forbodings, Gordon, the garden wrecker has finished the roof, removed the scaffolding, steam cleaned the paving and flower pots, (also inadvertently the kitchen walls and surfaces with a leaky attachment) and gone home clutching his cash in hand. Alas he has taken it into his head to paint the back door and windows, so he cheerily said `see you Monday Vick` as he left.  I have no memory of agreeing to this.  Still he does now bring his own milk and make his own tea, and also he had a frail youth with him today who is also coming next week.  I asked the lad what he usually does on a Monday morning and he said he stayed up in his bedroom with his playstation, so perhaps I am doing my bit to help the young unemployed   I cheered myself up writing a poem about builders as a therapy.
I spent a few hours yesterday at the Quaker Meeting House in Brighton which is simply buzzing with life.  I hope to be a voluntary helper there on a regular basis, but I felt I have so much to learn.  I know now how hepless the volunteers felt when they came to stand in for me at Winchester.   Brighton MH is a much more efficiently run outfit than mine was, and there is so much going on.   I did enjoy it all.
I have been writing all day and at the same time, watching Gordon`s progress anxiously outside.  I am trying to write about all the houses i have lived in, but there have not been many.  I have led a very unexciting life.   Nice though. 

twas on a Friday morning, the roof man came to call......

My beautiful courtyard looks like a bomb site! Builder bloke Gordon arrives to do a job for the neighbour`s window which overlooks my yard and while up aloft he takes grisly pictures of my roof with tiles missing and rotten timber. I am just leaving to go to stay with old friend B in Cornwall and he assures me he will sort the whole thing out while I am  away, `don`t worry Vicky Darling` he says `I`ll water your hanging baskets  as well, leave it all to me` I feel dubious but I leave to tackle the traffic jams on the M27.   I have just returned to a scene of utter desolation, even the cat is covered in dust.    I have no idea what is happening up on the roof, but I have always been afraid of climbing ladders even when I was young and nimble.  I just hope that Capability Jordan does not pop round, it would break his heart.  Gordon says it will be done by the weekend.  I do not believe him.
My bad back is miraculously cured. Was it the acupuncture administered by daughter J or was it sitting in a boiling hot car immobile in traffic for hours on  the M27, the A 303, or the A 30? Or the hard mattress on the bed in Cornwall?  Who knows, but I am now walking upright with a spring in my step.

We enjoyed the Ditchling Fair (Tiger came to stay again) especially the three groups of Morris dancers, whirling and stamping, bosoms a-wobbling (there were lady Morris dancers as well as men) up and down the High Street, also there was a Jack and Jill race with buckets of water, and cake stalls and raffles. I won two inappropriate prizes, a bottle of whiskey and an electric razor, serve me right as an upright Quaker for gambling. There was a band and a parade with a Ditchling Queen and we could watch it all from my front room.  The next day it was the London to Brighton bike race and that also went past my house, it was like a swarm of angry wasps buzzing by, hundreds of them.  I was asked to a birthday party in the Brighton Pavillion and did not realise that all the roads around Brighton were hopelessly blocked so was very late, but enjoyed eating delicious food in oriental splendour.
I am getting interested in the football and felt very decadent watching in a darkened room all afternoon. But I have Bad Back so it was good to have an excuse for resting. Everyone gets bad backs from time to time but it is very annoying as I am walking around like the road signs that say Beware Elderly People though I have not yet resorted to a stick. J needles it regularly which helps.

Scarecrow surprises

All over Ditchling, the villagers are making scarecrows for the competition for Ditchling Fair which is next Saturday, Rapunzels, footballers,politicians rear up behind hedges in a most surprising way.  My back yard is still in the process of being transformed with great care by Jordan, so there is no space or time for scarecrows for me.  We drove all over Sussex buying exotic plants on Thursday and went to nurseries where it was a bit like walking through the Borneo jungle, none of the usual garden centres with smelly gift shops for us.  
On Friday night J, D and I  went to a play(?) in the old Co op building in Brighton (a huge empty department store reminiscent of Are You Being Served)   It was loosely linked to The Cherry Orchard by Checkov. I stumbled around, mostly in semi darkness up and down stairs, in dungeon like cellars with strange smells and visual images which were often disturbing even frightening and the short moment when you saw the cherry tree in blossom amongst all the desolation was so sad, I am still procesing the whole experience in my mind.
Yesterday I went to an all day writing workshop in the Unitarian Meeting House, it was lovely and inspirational, also yet another brilliant Bring and Share lunch.This group run a monthly poetry group called The Rattle Bag, sounds promising.

Today I was invited to go to the Monday Club at the Unitarian Meeting House. Usually they have a speaker, sometimes an outing, but today it was either Scrabble or cards. Competition was keen at our table, and Reg, the ex village postman, was brilliant at adding up the score.  I felt quite decadent, playing scrabble in the middle of a Monday afternoon, and then eating delicious home made cakes and drinking copious cups of tea. I think I am going to enjoy being a retired OAP without responsibilities.   I have a very busy week ahead: a reading and book signing  from Jackie Kay,  who is launching her autobiography The Red Road, in a Brighton bookshop, a play in the old Co op building  also in Brighton called "Before I Sleep"  on Friday, and a writing workshop all day Saturday in the Quaker Meeting House.  And Jordan is still sawing away in my few square feet outside,creating a place for me to sit about in the sun, more decadence, I fear. 

Capability Jordan

Jordan is landscaping my garden, or rather the few square yards of backyard behind my cottage. He has wonderful energy and is very neat and organised.  There is a skip outside which is causing even more congestion in the road than usual.  Today we have a miini cement mixer churning away.  I am just about to make a list of plants, and Jordan is doing the same, we will see what we come up with. It is very exciting. As he is working so hard I cannot just sit about reading the Guardian, and doing the crossword, or even working away on my computer as it makes me feel like the idle rich, so I am trying to look busy too.
Grand daughter M is staying, who is studying for her A levels, which start next week. She is doing mathematical squiggle at the table.  I am so impressed by the cleverness of my grand children.
We both went to see an Italian film last night in the Village Hall, (the monthly Ditchling Film Society)  :The Golden Gate, about Italian illiterate peasants sailing off as immigrants to America at the turn of the century, enduring terrible hardships,.  M and I are sort of still living in it today as it was such a powerful film. Baby Arthur and F are back here tonight so I am very family orientated at present. .

The Tiger who came to Tea (or rather who stayed the night)

I got up earlier than usual, because grand daughter Rose who is always known as Tiger, is staying with me.  It is the first time ever that T has stayed away without her mum,  though she is six. We had breakfast and then we did cooking. My new kitchen is a good place to cook. Grand daughter F, partner R and baby Arthur are coming to stay tomorrow. 
I made bread in Diana Lewis`s bread tins She is well over ninety and she has decided to go into a Home,so she asked me if there was anything I would like, so I chose the tins They are well seasoned after a lifetime of use and I am very pleased with them.  After the cooking, Tiger cleaned every available surface with a wet cloth and a bowl of soapy water, so it was all very enjoyable for us both.
Last night, daughter J and six of her friends came round for supper and we all played games, they call it impro. I am sometimes too shy to join in but  I love it and we all had such laughs.It has been scientifically proven that having a good laugh is very good for your health.
Last week I went back to Winchester for a few days and it felt fine. It was lovely to see everybody but good to come home to Ditchling too.   

Yesterday was grand daughter M`s eighteenth birthday. It is such a landmark.  I remember her birth in the Royal Free in London as if it was yesterday. J and I wandered on Hampstead Heath and had a swim in the Ladies Pond, the day before. It was green and murky but lovely as it was a hot, hot day. Then we went to a concert at a church in Baker Street and it was the first time I had heard Taverner`s music and I cried.  We had a good celebration yesterday with a slap up tea (J`s sumptuous meringues) and champagne. Her exams start on Friday.
I tried really hard to be a proper bus travelling old age pensioner today. I was going to lunch with R in Lewes and jumped on the 824 flashing my free pass, but instead of Lewes it took me to Burgess Hill, in the opposite direction.   Apparently it only goes to Lewes on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  I have never got the hang of bus timetables.So I eventually arrived very late by car.   I must try to improve. 
Tomorrow `the Lads`are coming, my three old bachelor friends.  We all used to meet at Music summer school in Oxford, year after year, and also play Schubert`s Trout quintet on New Years Day. Friend K is coming too so it will be quite a party.  I am just going to make a cake.

Idling at the Blue Idol

I went on a day retreat at the Blue Idol. It is an ancient Quaker Meeting House in Coolham in Sussex It is a strange name for a MH, but one theory is that it was once painted blue and also it was idle ie unoccupied for a few years way back in the 17th century.   It is beautiful and peaceful, and just the place for me to be idle in. The day was organised by the Ditchling Quakers and there was the usual delicious bring and share lunch, so we were well quiched in true Q tradition. We did some walking meditation round the garden. The grasss was a bit bumpy, but I did not fall over, always a hazard with your eyes shut.
I also tried to write a bit  about change and moving house.  It is the little things I notice more, and the familiar objects that I have either lost or deliberately left behind like the old saucepan I boiled my breakfast egg in. I get phone calls, texts, emails and cards from all my old friends so I still feel in touch with them.   E rang to say that it was very odd without the cat in the Meeting House in Winchester.    

The news is riveting. Ever since the election, they are all at it hammer and tongs, but now it seems that decent boring Gordon has shuffled off and slick fresh faced Cameron is in charge plus Cleggy whom I am noit sure about though he is against Trident.. I am glad that fatherly reliable Vince Cable is included in the new cabinet.  Still  what do I know about it all?
Remembering what my humble house moving was like I do worry about the Camerons and Browns sorting out and packing up all those toys, bikes, contents of the bathroom cupboards and old handbags.  Perhaps they have armies of skivivies but even so, what a job, especially with the stairs at number ten.
Every day still is like a holiday here. I toddle along to the shops, get the Guardian, read it, have a cup of coffee, go for a little bike ride, have an afternoon rest and so it goes on. I am going to a Frugal Lunch at the Quakers today in aid of something, and I will try and find out if there are any writing or reading groups in Ditchling that I can join
Jordan, a lovely garden bloke came round last night with some plans for my backyard. I  am so excited.  He will hopefully start at the beginning of June.

Yesterday I went to a park in Hove with J,six year old Tiger and bike and Jumble the dog. There was a playground for old people there, exercise machines you could heave yourself up and down on and kick your legs about. What a good idea. I had a go on them all with the other oldies in the park and then later had a swim with grand daughter G at St Lukes, the Victorian pool near J`s house.. I have now got a card for free swimming so should keep fit though I also have developed a habit of going to cafes, yesterday, a bacon butty in the morning and a lemon croissant in the afternoon.. 
I tried to stay awake for the election, but fell asleep while they were burbling on.  Good that a Green has got in for Brighton, but I am sad that our Lib Dem did not make it in Winchester where I did my postal vote, a Tory back there, alas.
I have just had a funny time getting my Broadband to work, it gave up this am. I spent what seemed like an hour being talked through by a very polite chap in Calcutta who was patient as I got into a right panic, scuttling around from the blue flashing lights on the gizmo to the computer and trying to hold the phone, type and understand his directions all at the same time. What a relief whenit was over and it works.

midnight flit

I left Winchester about midnight on Friday as I could not bear the thought of any more sad goodbyes and also I knew I would not sleep.  The car was packed up and I captured the struggling cat to put her in a basket so off we went. It is all surprisingly pleasant and comfortable. J came round and hung up the pictures and the family from Brighton came and we had scones for tea.
It has poured with rain all day and I am longing to get out on my bike and explore the country lanes.   But I went to an event in Brighton which was part of the Festival  on the subject of Compassion, and a lot of it about attitudes to old people so that struck home.
I seem to have been very busy since I retired!

Crumbs on the Aga

To look at my old blog click on the link below.

http://crumbs-on-the-aga.blogspot.com/