summertime has ended

I wrote this last year, forgive me if you have read it before:

Tonight we have the changing
of the clocks.
Spring forward, fall back? But for me
I could just as easily fall forwards.

The all knowing God inside my laptop
gets it right, unlike Quakers
who arrive early for Meeting,
babies, garden birds and cats, puzzled
when their breakfast is delayed.

Autumn gathers momentum straight away.
All too soon there`s crumpets, winter vests,
hot water bottles, Christmas trees in Tescos,
as we move from British Summertime
to Greenwich Meantime,
devised originally to regulate the drinking time
of the feckless working class, and for a politician
who liked horse riding before breakfast.

In Brighton, they had all night activities: Life Drawing in the Meeting House, swimming at the Prince Regent, theatres, music and dancing. all around the city.  I meant to go and participate,but during the evening I went to a concert in Haywards Heath (I got lost in the vicious one way system, and had a large number of HH residents on the case)  It was Julie Roberts from Ditchling Meeting singing and playing guitar and keyboards, and also some other excellent musicians. I was so moved and overwhelmed by her beautiful performance and sat spellbound, so did not want to go to the White Night in Brighton as I needed time to think about it all.

I have been back in Winchester all week which is why this blog has not been written. When i go there, I have a `cafe life,` meeting friends in teashops, pubs, and cafes.  It is surprising how long we can sit, talking ten to the dozen ( that is an odd phrase what does it mean?) over one cup of coffee.  Since getting back, I have spent a couple of hours catching up on emails and ansaphone messages, not to mention the dreaded Face book which is getting a bit out of hand.    Life is changing all the time, all this would never have happened quite a short time ago. 
I have decided that I will not have things in my house that I do not use. I am going to be ruthless. Old poeple have too much stuff.  This is after staying with dear friend B in Winchester. She does not have email so she will not read this and be offended.

I have discovered that many teenagers get upset when they are`unfriended` on Facebook. One more thing to worry about.  At present, I get new friends popping up daily, but I still feel mystified by the whole process.
I went to the Ditchling Community Choir on Sunday. Such a treat.  All the pop songs I like but never knew the words. I have a splendid book of songs that I can sing with gusto all around the house.  A great advantage of living alone as there is no one to tell you shut up. 
I went to Brighton yesterday on the once a week bus. I finally found out where it stops and when. It was full of old girls like me going to Marks and Spencers in Churchill Square. I have decided I need one of those push along shopping baskets. I may as well give in to it and get the right kit.  
Oh how awful the news is, I can hardly bear to read the Guardian today. I feel guilty that they have not made any cuts for OAP`s yet. I could easily do without the winter fuel allowance and sit with a hot water bottle under my jumper.

Almost by default, I find myself on Facebook, (it was because E had posted photos of my party on it)  It is very odd, I now seem to have an inordinate amount of friends,  popping up all over the place, poking, and writing on walls, I find it heart warming, but I am not sure that I am doing it properly, and I need a toddler somewhere to give me some instruction. I am afraid of hurting someone`s feelings by not replying to a poke.
I have had my dear friend and ex neighbour M staying for a few days which is why I have not written this blog. We have been on the trail of Vanessa Bell, Virginia Wolf and Duncan Grant and co again. Gloomy Rodmell where Virginia lived and wrote, and the place where she put the stones in her pockets and waded into the river, Charleston where they all hung out at various times.  Many of the other visitors looked Bloomsbury-ish too with green shoes and funny felt hats. We also went to Alfriston to the very first National Trust place,The Clergy House.   The village has the more crafty gift shoppes that I have ever seen, but all very tasteful and expensive.
The night before we went to the untasteful popcorny cinema at Brighton Marina to see `Made in Dagenham`. We both cried. Those brave women striking for equal pay for women.  Would I have had that courage?

I am now a happy octegenarian and can sit on those seats at the front of the bus esignated `For the Elderly` without feeling guilty, and I could also buy myself an elegant stick and wave it around in Marks and Spencers for attention., but maybe not yet.
On Sunday, the barn on Ditchling village green was thronged with Darlings of all shapes and sizes from ten month old little Arthur to many of the older generations  (including my sister, brother and sister in law who are also darlings with a small d)  Also many old friends made long treks to get here and in deluging rain, but it did not damp our spirits.  There was a family `band` which played such lively music that several of us did a bit of dancing. In the end, only five dogs came and all behaved impeccably.   
I do truly believe that parties are very good things to hold, go to, plan, remember.  They are hard work and there is always a moment when you think, Oh why did I ever have this silly idea, I must have been mad, but ultimately it is all worth while.