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.