sheep safely grazed......

I am just back from the Lake District.The secret of holidays in beautiful places is to stay with lovely friends like M and D who have recently moved up there, as they know all the good places to visit. The countryside was  simply stunning, the sheep safely grazed, the valleys were exalted and we lifted our eyes up to the hills, all this plus more daffodils than even Wordsworth encountered.  We did a bit of circle dancing, a bit of singing over the washing up, and we spent time in nearby Dent where theTerrible Knitters of Dent used to hang out  (who kidnapped children apparently and coerced them into endless knitting,with a special wooden gadget tucked into their skirts)   We had poetry with breakfast and the sun shone all the time. What more could anyone ask?

For all the saintly cats who from their labours rest........

There has nearly always been one, two or sometimes three cats in my life and I have been remembering them all: Brian, Pudding, Percy, Pussy Willow, the list goes on and on, Sadly Daphne breathed her last yesterday, peacefully after a short illness aged eighteen. Shirley is still going strong with J in Brighton but she is the last of the line.
The remote turned up mysteriously on the dresser in Brighton. Strange!  But I seem to have got out of the habit of watching TV and also the search for it has meant that I had the most colossal spring clean so it was probably a Good Thing.
Spring seems to have arrived, its lovely here in Ditchling, but I am off today to Kendal to stay with D and M . Shall I take my winter woollies?  What a worry.

a mystery

I have lost the remote from the TV. I have searched the dustbin, recycling (several times) beds, cupboards, pockets, drawers, fridge, down sofa and chairs. The trouble is, in such a small house there are not many places to look for things. I have made frequent supplications (in triplicate, as instucted) to St Ann  and St Anthony who have both always obliged in the past with specs, keys, purses. The only visitors have been friend J with Madge and Dotty two small dogs who all swear as to their innocence. I tried to buy a replacement in Curry`s but the instructions are gobbledook. I can`t settle to anything until I find it. Oh dear.

censored!

I did a daft thing today. The censor form arrived on the mat. I will be efficient, I thought ,and set to work straight away filling it in, first in pencil, then black ink as instructed. I had a few problems with religion, Am I a Christian? There was no space for Quaker. And how do I describe my last job in one line? But I did it neatly,sealed it up and popped it into the post box over the road feeling self righteous. Friend K came for the day `You should n`t have done that` she cried `It has to be done on 27th March, you have committed a heinous offence!`What will happen to me now I wonder?
I have been over-run with viruses, they kept popping up all over the place. I had the helpful bloke who sorted out the mango and apple juice on the keyboard recently, here nearly all day. They were talking viruses in the afternoon.  All well now I hope but it was a nasty experience. 

Oh who would o`er the downs so free ,Oh who would with me ride?

I had begun to think that my cycling days were over, as i could not tackle the gentlest of hills and felt wobbly. But I took my trusty Swiss bike (given to me by Swiss Heidi from the writing group many years ago,and which has taken me from Le Havre to Rouen, over the Pennines and various other epic routes) to the excellent James in his small shed at Hassocks station) who admired my stainless steel spokes and chromium handlebars and worked on it all day. The result: I can now ride like the wind up and down hills and do not feel wobbly any more.   All it needed was a bit of oil and some TLC    And that`s a lesson for life.
I have just been on another train trip, this time to Bath staying one night at Limpley Stoke en route. No wartery disasters this time. It was lovely chuffing through beautiful countryside, and staying in houses with lovely views and kind friends. I went to a talk at the Bath Literary festival on poor Virginia Woolf. What a sad life. Must re-read some of her novels now with new insights.