Monday 22 April 2013

me and my dog.....

The sun is shining for the third day running today and it ought to be lifting my spirits but I feel full of nameless dread at the the prospect of the impending move to the bloomin bungalow. I am wishing I had never embarked on such a foolhardy plan. It is like someone wondering if they will make a run for it on their wedding day leaving all the guests waiting at the church. Can I at this stage back out?    But then, when I crawl painfully up and down the stairs with my creaking knees and watch and hear the ceaseless roar of traffic outside this cottage, I remember why I decided to move, so I suppose I will go ahead.
Otherwise Ditchling life goes on, with good films in the Village Hall ,Benda Billilili last week which was about a group of Congolese disabled musicians who made good, my three walks a day with B. Wiggins in the lovely countryside, and various Quaker activities at Ditchling and Brighton
Caroline Lucas, the Green Party MP for Brighton addressed the Quaker Socialist Society at Brighton last week and sh was such a breath of fresh air, especially in the midst of all the hype over the Thatcher funeral. She seemed like the `still small voice of calm` Such a good speaker and she dealt so well with a tricky bloke who came in spoiling for a fight.
I always get excited by the London Marathon. I cannot imagine how they do it, though I heard someone on the radio say that you don`t run a Marathon with your legs but with your head. 
One good thing: I have replaced the rust bucket with a similar model but with no bumps or scratches or gaffer tape keeping the bumper on. I was driven to it by a slipping clutch which could not quite make it over the Beacon.  

Tuesday 9 April 2013

My family and other animals.......

I have been away for much of last week at Hatfield for dear P`s funeral. I had heartwarming meetings up with my dear extended family. Sister J, brother P, and I were together and we appreciated each other`s company. Brothers and sisters have known each other for longer than anyone else: husbands, children, grandchildren and we have so many shared memories.
We had an Experience the day after the funeral, with brother P, who cut his face on the car door in a stressful multi-storey car park. Firstly the manager of Loch Fyne where we went to have lunch, turned out to be a phenomenal first aider. He really went to town on P`s face  It was a work of art with blue sticking plaster. Later, it bled and bled, (due to his being on Warfarin) so P and I spent a few hours in an eerily quiet A and E doing the crossword, until about 1.30 am.    A cheerful nurse, discussing the Grand National,  applied a seaweed dressing to stop the bleeding. It was not a bit like A and E on the telly, no drama at all thank goodness, and no binge drinkers who had been in fights, though it was a Friday night.
B Wiggins has stood up bravely to all these coming and goings though he did have a nasty adventure the previous week when J took him to the IOW and he managed to fall off a sea wall and had to be rescued from the crashing waves by grand son R who jumped in to save him. He now walks on three legs for some of the time but he did not break any bones, he`s just a bit bruised. He was quite happy staying in a strange house and apart from having to be restrained from attacking Auntie P`s collection of teddy bears he behaved  well.
A strange thing occurred while I was away. My expensive varifocal specs disappeared shortly before the funeral. Sadly I was unable to join in with the hymns. I searched high and low, moved furniture, turned out bags, all to no avail,  and had given up, when they mysteriously reappeared by my bed the next morning. Was it an angel? Or did B. Wiggins hide them and then he suddenly thought better of it?