Safely home again

Family and friends were concerned that I might have perished in the earthquake in Italy.Happily we knew little about it as there was no radio, TV or newspapers where I was staying. It was chilly there, unlike the heatwave here, but the sun did shine most days,Italy was as beautiful as ever, and the little towns on the hilltops, quiet and timeless.  There were cuckoos and hoopoes in the garden, cherries on the trees, wonderful wild flowers everywhere and roses too.  I did not venture into the lake to swim, but indefatigible friends J and P did.  There was a water shortage and often only a splutter from the tap, so a big deep bath when I got home last night was a treat, but it was a lovely holiday.
I am now waiting with baited breath to find out whether my much loved old rust bucket of a car has passed its MOT, if not I have the dreadful worry of dealing with second hand car dealers, a nightmare for elderly persons like me.

packing the passport, pills, pyjamas and poetry books.

I am getting ready for my trip to Italy. Oh what a worry it is all is, checking in on line, making sure I get to Gatwick on time, remembering to pack my blood pressure pills, and enough to read, then the fearful prospect of catching a train in Rome to the remote spot in Umbria where old friends P and J are already ensconced.  However I went there once before at this time of year and it was warm and beautiful so hopefully it is worth all the angst.
It is festival time in Brighton and the streets are heaving with musicians, actors, young hopefuls, even the Quaker Meeting House today where I `m working for my Saturday stint has a play about evacuees which did not fit my memories at all of that era, still I enjoyed hearing the songs.
At home, a man comes to start on the roof, strips off the old stuff.  He enters the kitchen for his cup of tea (two sugars)and shakes his head mournfully `there`s going to be trouble with that downpipe` he tells me, then  discovers there are roadworks in South Street all next week so has gone away again. All this after the wettest April and May and ominous damp patches are appearing....

Bluebells, nightingales and cuckoos

I am just off to the woods in search of the above, with my Ditchling friend F and dog. It is deluging with rain. It has been the wettest April on record, but apparently there is still a drought in East Sussex. Spring is rushing by too quickly and I am not getting enough of it. It all gets to be more precious, and this has been brought home to me lately, firstly by a spate of funerals and memorial meetings. I am off to my fourth in Winchester on Saturday. They are good occasions for getting together with my mates but sobering none the less.
Also I have been visiting B with a broken leg in a ward full of confused elderly women. I have to remind myself that last week they probably looked quite all right when they had had their hair done and were happily making cakes and jam for the WI.
I  have hopefully established an early morning swimming routine at last at the pool in Burgess Hill, it was almost empty when I was there last Monday. Trouble is, I keep geting lost in the hinterland of Burgess Hill, it is rather like the dreaded Basingstoke with endless roundabouts.   Quite scary.
Still I will persevere.