A long gap. Dear old friend P. at Limpley Stoke died a couple of weeks ago, and just lately I have been driving up and down the A272, and A303 , the last being for the funeral on Monday. I first met him in 1955 when we both moved into College Street in Winchester, a few doors from each other, so our friendship had lasted a long time.
It was a heartwarming funeral and as usual at such occasions you learn things about the person you never knew before. There were many familiar faces, and hosts of memories, poems, and music from family and friends at the service in the village church. I am sad that he has gone, but he was ninety, and he died in his own bedroom with his beloved J holding his hand and family around him, after a good life in which he was much loved and what more could one ask?
On the drive back in the dark, I stopped to answer my phone and managed to drop my wallet in a car park near Petersfield, fifty miles away. All those cards: bank, library Waitrose, driving licence and my precious bus pass, gone! But a kind person handed it in at the nearby pub, and another kind friend went and collected it and is posting it back. I am overwhelmed.
I had a lovely afternoon at the Infants today. We are doing puppets again, good old Guy Fawkes and co comes up year after year in January which is a bit strange. So we are messing about with glue, glitter, and swords made of lolly sticks.
BW had a parcel last week. It was addressed to Master Bradley Wiggins and it contained his special Yellow Jersey, knitted for him by dear friend C in Winchester.. I wonder what the postman thought. BW looks very fine in it.