Proper poorly

I came back from the Julia Darling fest up north with a nasty virus which has made feel feel very poorly ever since, though with B. Wiggins` reproachful looks there is little chance of having a proper illness and being able to lie on the sofa all day as we have to go for walks at regular intervals. Daughter J came and made me curative drinks with ginger and Manuka honey, but I have just remembered the Russian granny cures from the Meeting House days which involve garlic on toast, a sock tied round the neck, and hot hard boiled eggs (with shells on) massaged over the face, so I think I will try those.

Julia`s ten year memorial events in Newcastle were quite overwhelming.   There was a lovely evening of poetry at the University where she was a fellow, both hers and new ones dedicated to her, and there were workshops, plays and music at Live Theatre on the Quayside where she had been writer in residence. And I was able to see  the grand daughters and great grand little boys and great nieces too plus sister J and brother P. and many other family and old friends.  It was a good get together and I am so thankful for it.

B. Wiggins had to be left with a friend in Brighton and he did a runner to daughter J`s house, though fortunately not to Ditchling, but he was quickly rescued and he settled down     He has just had a complete makeover at Plumpton College Dog Grooming Department and now looks half the size.   Sadly his friend Jumble, daughter J`s dog, died on Friday aged twelve. He was a lovely quiet polite dog and his great accomplishment was singing tunefully whenever anyone played the mouth organ. We will all miss him .

I went to a film in the village hall called The Rocket, made in Laos. I spent much of the time with my eyes shut and my fingers in my ears as it involved two sweet children doing very dangerous things, and it was obvious that they have not yet heard of Health and Safety in Laos. It did end happily,  but it make me thankful for the comfort of life in Ditchling

There`s been a lot going on in Ditchling the last few days:  There was a play in the village hall:The Lady Killers based on the Ealing comedy which has always been one of my favourite films, about the dotty old lady and her elderly crook lodgers pretending to play string quartets while planning a bank robbery.   It was a coincidence that there was a real robbery in the news, also done by a group of aged criminals who were eventually caught. Apparently they had trouble hearing the charges read out to them in court. It must have been upsetting for the people who lost all their jewels but there is something comic about those elderly blokes getting it all slightly wrong.
On Thursday we had our monthly film show also in the village hall and this was a brilliant film:Blue Jasmine directed by Woody Allen  and that was a tale of a woman (Kate Blanchet) who also got it wrong all the time.
Then the next night we had a concert with our Ditchling resident old jazz musician Herbie Flowers plus some other great jazz players also  past their first youth (plus a wonderful singer) performed to a  hugely appreciative audience of villagers.   As I`ve said before, there is never a dull moment in Ditchling.

Last weekend it was grand daughter M`s birthday so with daughter J and grand daughter T, we went to Hampstead Heath where J and I went the day before M was born twenty three years ago. They had an icy swim in the Ladies Pond as we did then, though I felt it might finish me off if I did it too, but we all walked and walked and it was simply beautiful, completely unspoiled, just as it used to be.

I`m getting ready for the trip up north for Julia Darling`s Anniversary Event with poetry and  plays at Live Theatre on Quayside and a general get together for family and friends. I am a bit worried that we will all spend our time racing round Newcastle losing each other.   

Greens are good for you.

I quite miss all the excitement of the election and though it seemed totally disastrous, I was pleased that the Greens did so well all over the country and our candidate, Alf Stirling, in Lewes did not lose his deposit.    And I was glad too that lovely Caroline Lucas kept her seat in Brighton. 

My brother, sister and I who were aged eighteen, nine and fourteen respectively in May 1945 on VE Day, have no recollection of it whatsoever.   Brother P said he thought there could have been a street party but surely I would have remembered it too. Did we have the day off school?  Who knows. It is very strange, as we were living in North London and it was only a short bus and tube ride up to join the crowds outside Buckingham Palace.   P and I can remember the Jubilee in 1936 when we were given a pencil, a book and a mug.

I went to an exhibition in a darkened church in Brighton for the Festival called Dawn Chorus.   Apparently if you slow down bird song it sounds just like human speech.   There were recordings of singers who imitated birds and then it was speeded up and this was accompanied by huge images of these people lying in the bath or reading or lying in bed. It was all very peculiar but it made you wonder what  ordinary garden birds are really saying when they are twittering away.
I think I heard a nightingale yesterday as I walked up Lodge Hill with BW.  It is just heavenly up there at the moment with all the birds and spring flowers.
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