As I came home from the funeral last Friday, on the ferry to Lymington, I wondered if it would be the last time for me to do that journey. We first started going to the Isle of Wight in 1960 when the twins were babies. My beloved mother in law paid for us all to have a fortnight`s holiday at a hotel in Totland (myself, J, and four children under six). Not long afterwards we bought a cottage in Yarmouth as we lived in a school house in Winchester. All the children learned to swim, sail, row,fish, and we walked for miles over Tennyson Down, cycled up and down the hills of the West Wight, pottered about up the River Yar, went crabbing by the harbour, and had some wonderful times.
The place has changed in those fifty four years. There used to be a butcher, a baker a dairy and several grocers including one called Mr Higginbottoms. The shops are now art galleries and boutiques, the restaurants are pricey and houses astronomically expensive to buy or rent. Daughter J and son C did have a sail up the Yar as a respite from all the funeral arrangements, but the family ae not really boat-orientated any more.
One of the grandchildren read Masefield`s poem: Sea Fever at the service. I was surprised that none of them knew it. It was so familiar in my schooldays. It was very appropriate as J was an enthusiastic and able sailor for much of his life. There were other lovely readings and contributions from the rest of the family too.
The vicar was most emphatic that dogs were welcome in the church so both Jumble and B.Wiggins came to the funeral and behaved impeccably.
I am off up North next week to stay with dear ex neighbours in Kendal, so I am brushing up on the Lake poets and looking forward to poems at breakfast.