raining hats and dogs (and boots and macs)

The Christmas Day swimmers (daughter J and three grand daughters) were not able to plunge into the sea this year due to the dire weather, the Council banned it and closed the beach. Such a disappointment.  The day began for me with the annual hearty Quaker breakfast at the Meeting House, followed by Meeting. A good start to the day.
I talked to a Polish woman who told me that at home everyone has a carp for the Christmas meal which is cooked and served in a jelly. Some families get the fish in good time and keep it in the bath, alive..I enjoyed our nut roast even more after hearing that.
I spend a lot of time consumed by guilt at this time of the year: I should have written more cards, given nicer presents and wrapped them up properly, asked more people round, made more mince pies, the scope for feelings of unworthiness is endlesss. Apart from all that, I had a blessed and happy time..
Little dog has arrived and is sitting on the sofa beside me as I write this.  I will have to brave the wind and rain twice a day to take him for walkies, but he is very sweet and lovable.  He is to be renamed Bradley Wiggins (my cycling hero) or Wiggy for short.

A dog for Christmas......

I am sorry for the long gap.The computer has been playing up for weeks and then refused to let me write my blog! But grand daughter M is home from uni and has Sorted Me Out. Over a week ago, I went to Winchester for the day and I came home to find that a burglar had been and burgled me. Not that I had much to take but I was faced with a terrible mess: papers photographs,old letters,books,scattered, everywhere, it was quite a shock. But good things have resulted from all this: 1 I have had a huge tidy up and thrown lots of stuff away. 2.I had new locks fitted to the front door, free,from insurance people. 3.I am getting a dog on Boxing Day!(Friends who are moving to a flat where dogs are not allowed are giving me their eighteen month old Yorkshire terrier) 4.People in Ditchling were shocked and horrified and sent me cards, messages of sympathy and chocolates. The police came promptly and at least six have offered victim support and counselling which I have declined. 5.I never wore the `jewellery` that he or she took. The only snag is that the insurance company say that they will compensate me with tokens for more jewels and not actual cash, which is not much use to an eighty two year old. I was hoping it would go towards replacing the rust bucket or building the downstairs loo, but no such luck. Daughter J has promised to mind the dog when I go away or out to dog free zones so friends need not fear. I am off to Newcastle for a few days to see all my lovely family I hope it is not going to snow.

being worthy in Worthing

Kind friends drove me to a lecture at the Worthing Theological Society on Monday evening. Not my normal milieu.  It was in a Baptist church in West Worthing which smelled of fresh paint and clean baptists. The speaker was a loved Quaker guru, Harvey Gillman, and the room was packed, question time afterwards was unstoppable. But don`t ask me what the talk was about as it sort of washed over me (the subject was mysticism) Most of it went right over my head but I enjoyed the flow of words and imagery. The evening had begun with a delicious supper at the best fish restaurant in Worthing polished off with a nice glass of Pinot Grigio, so what more can anyone ask?
At last I am going to replace my much loved rustbucket, the Nissan Micra with the missing hubcaps, bumped into bumper, and gaffer taped extremities.  I can no longer bear the pitying glances of Ditchlingites and others.   Simon Brown, an old schoolmate of my three sons, who finds cars for people, is on the case.  `I`ll sort you out Vick` he promises, so before long I will have a sleek limo outside St Dominic`s Cottage.
Also I have Bob the Builder sorting out the downstairs loo and place-to-put-my-muddy boots. So I won`t know myself soon. May as well spend, spend, spend, as there are no pockets in shrouds as someone used to say but I can`t remember who.

Neither shaken nor stirred.

I went to see Freefall the new James Bond movie. I always used to despise James Bond films, but now that my heroine Judi Dench has such a large role in them (and she`s Quaker) and also this new one had excellent reviews, I have come round to them. I really enjoyed it: stuunning photography of London, Macau, Istanbul, wonderful chases over rooftops,and an ending with shades of Macbeth in a ruined church in the wilds of Scotland. Though it was a bit violent, there weren`t too many dead bodies, the baddies just seemed to get up and walk away.
I drove to Petworth on Sunday, along the spectacular A272 in all its autumn glory to meet son T and family for a pub lunch. There were solemn processions of Brownies and Guides and old soldiers waving flags in the villages for Remembrance Day. I stopped for the Silence at 11am near a village war memorial. All those names, many with several from the same family, heartbreaking. I wear my white poppy but I don`t know what it means really.
I am finding all the BBC shenanigans quite baffling. I used to think that it was just daft old women like me who forget to check things, get events and people mixed up, make ghastly mistakes, but no, it happens with highly educated, hugely paid, super intelligent people who should know better.
A group of us Ditchling villagers have managed to resuscitate the Village Choir, so we are all swaying and tapping our feet whilst singing Ive Got Rhythm and Dancing Queens again on Sunday afternoons. We are doing a concert at the Dome in Brighton next week (in the foyer, its free!)     

oops

I missed out a word in my last blog. It should have read `a downstairs loo put in`    Sorry, it must have been a bit mystifying.

shooting the rapids

I went to the pool with Tiger and her friend as it was half term, and instead of sedately swimming my lengths as I usually do, I found myself imbroiled in `funtime` with jets of water cascading in every direction, strong currents sweeping me round and round, surrounded by a screaming inferno of children. Once I gor over the shock and became used to the noise,  I rather enjoyed it.   I also met old friends from Winchester amongst the heaving mass, lovely Francis McKeith`s daughter and grand daughters who were staying at a Youth Hostel nearby.
I have been having computer troubles both with the ghastly poetry moodle and also getting into this blog! I sometimes feel as if there are unseen forces conspiring against me. I miss the `big girls`from Brighton who are now away at uni as they were my computer gurus. But son T has been giving me some remote advice and I havegot back to the blog.   I think I will abandon the moodle, I bit off more than I can chew there.
I went to the Dome in Brighton with son in law D ( a delayed birthday present) to see a stand up called Josie Long; political, funny, big and clumsy, like Miranda on the telly. She was a delight  (I looked around at the packed audience and realised I was about three times the age of almost every one there but no matter)
I have been having builders in to see if it is practical to have a downstairs put in. I can see they are not keen as soon as they cross the threshhold. I asked one how long it would take and he said 5 or 6 weeks. I would have thought he could have built a whole row of houses in that time.

Up North again

I should have included in my account of my birthdy celebrations that daughter J organised a `beauty treatment` for me (rather a lost cause at 82 but it was the bushy eyebrows and a face massage), a roast gravy dinner, and an impro party in the evening which was as usual, hilarious.
Coming home from Up North on Tuesday, the couple sitting opposite whipped out two printouts of the Guardian cryptic crossword,which is what I always do too , so the journey flew by as we all puzzled together and swopped clues. It reminded me of the time a man got out a chess set and challenged me to a game on that very same train.
I had the usual hectic, hugely enjoyable time with babies galore and family visits and outings. Sister J `s furniture came back while I was there after the floods in June. What a relief, she has been coping with a garden chair and table since the floors were finally replaced. The piano has been repolished and look a treat.
At the Infants yesterday I learned some interesting facts about crocodiles: the sex of their young is determined by the temperature as their eggs are incubating. I learn new things every week, last year it was the Gunpowder Plot.

Third Age Power in Ditchling

A new U3A group has just started up in Ditchling and Hassocks We had the first meeting today.  About two hundred turned up, all as keen as mustard, signing up for every sort of group from archeology to Sunday dinners (I wondered about that one, do you have to cook, eat or talk about them?)
I signed up for computers ( I`m still having trouble with the moodle) museum visits, and poetry.  I am not sure what happns next.  They seemed  a very lively bunch.
My eighty second birthday has come and gone, fairly low key this year, perhaps next year I will organise a proper knees up, if I`m spared as my dear mother in law used to say.  I had a lovely lot of cards and texts and face book cheery messages which were very heartwarming. .  Son C and family took me out for lunch to a pub in Firle near here which is where the vicar who is on TV lives, Peter Owen Jones There he was large as life in the pub with his battered hat and a slightly crooked dog collar over a pink shirt. In one of his programmes he travelled around trying to live without any money, but had to give up to pay his car insurance.
I was impressed with Ed`s seventy minute speech without notes and the smacking kiss he gave his wife at the end. I have great hope of him and he does really try not to be too much of a toff like the other lot.
Ditchling film society started again last night and we had a lighthearted French film called Potiche. It was good feminist stuff. I enjoyed it.

In a bit of a bad moodle...

I am struggling with a moodle. Apparently every secondary school child now moodles their school work, but it is a struggle for me. I foolishly signed up for an online poetry course months ago. It is such a worry exposing my inadequacies to sixteen perfect strangers and the tutor,and they all sound as if they are `proper poets too.. I am trying to pluck up courage to submit my first assignment.
I am just back from my trip to the Lake District where I stayed with my dear ex neighbours M and D. I enjoyed beautiful walks and outings, delicious meals, and poetry at breakfast (D is a poet). The train journeys there and back were surprisingly trouble free. I think the Virgin staff must have been on a course to be kind to The Old. They positively begged to help me on and off trains and carry my case. Also a young man carried said case up the steps at a station. Maybe I just look decrepit.
I enjoyed a programme last night on TV about funerals It is on every week but I missed the last one. Different cultures in England have such interesting rituals. It has given me some ideas.
T

I could have danced all night, but I didn`t.....

It has been an active weekend, with three very different gatherings.  The first was a grandly named `soiree` to raise funds for grand daugher G who is doing the Great North Run next weekend in aid of the Red Cross. It seems tough that you not only have to run for miles but raise lots of money as well. We all had to do a `turn` and there was a raffle in which everyone won a prize.
On Saturday I went to a Russian Orthodox christening where the baby was totally immersed three times into a copper cauldron by the priest. The baby is almost a year old and he emerged looking very surprised. There was a lovely party afterwards, whilst the very clean baby slept peacefully.
Then that  evening I went to spectacular party in Ditchling, just across the road, which was a fancy dress do, and as I have said before, Ditchling really knows how to party, I have never seen such amazing costumes, I felt under dressed in my blonde wig and feather boa, both of which were very tickly.
Tonight I am `putting the house to rest` before going off in the morning en route for Kendal to see my dear ex neighbours. This involves cleaning out the fridge and removing some dodgy items, hoovering round and whooshing away the spiders webs, none of which takes long in this small cottage       

Behind the Scenes in the Museum....

Last night I went to a poetry reading in the Brighton Museum. There is something very exciting about being there when everyone has gone home. The objects in the glass cases look as if they might get up and walk around..   The poems were good too, and I think I might do the course which is called Museum Tales when it starts again in January.  Daughter J and I sat talking at the end and I had a secret wish that we might get locked in for the night, but we were ushered out into the rainy night.
The Brighton family have all been at a sort of alternative pop festival called Shambala, whioch was miles away in Northampton. I thought they were mad to go all that way but it sounded good. Son in law D was the organiser for children`s activities in a field, Tiger did gymnastics, J and M learned to sing sea shanties, they did Tai Chi and yoga, and great grand baby loved it too. Apparently there was one big tent called Baby Bath Time with buckets of soapy water, so it was not like dirty muddy Glastonbury or suchlike at all. I find it all very interesting but I would not like it myself. 
Everyone has moaned about the long wet windy summer but I have enjoyed it (apart from poor sister J`s terrible flood)   I have not got all hot and bothered, I have not had to toil over watering the plant pots in my back yard and have played lots of good games of Scrabble indoors with my friends and relations when we were all over in the Isle of Wight.

Boys love babies!

I have been over in the isle of Wight with my tribe. The household (small rented house in Yarmouth) consisted of:: daughter, son in law,grand daughter Tiger, plus two camping in the garden, three grandchildren with a friend to stay, one grand daughter with an eleven month old baby boy, another grand daughter (and husband, all camping nearby) with a two month old baby and a toddler, one son who was staying round the corner who came in and cooked huge lasagnes and curries for supper,his son also there for odd days, plus lots of Brighton friends coming for the day, also Jumble the dog, and another dog being looked after by ex husband while owner on holiday. Add all that lot up. Happy chaos. I have now come home to the quiet orderliness of Ditchling but I miss them all.
I noticed that teenage boys and young men really love babies, which was a great help.
I had a delayed train journey back from Bristol two weeks ago and filled in all the forms. They have compensated me three times! Three identical letters of abject apology. Moral dilemma: Do I return the two extra cheques?

He who would so valiant be......

The `blessed` pilgrims  returned safely and managed the whole route on the South Downs Way with the two horsed, the cart, four dogs, and a variable number of adults and children. Only one kissing gate that wouldn`t let the cart through, which meant a bit of a detour. Otherwise it was all lovely with butterflies and wild flowers and warm sunshine.   I went up and joined them one day near Chanctonbury Ring, but was glad to come home and sleep in my bed rather than a cold open field like the Raggle Taggle Gypsies.  
I am heartily sick of the Olympics. My favourite programmes on TV disrupted ( I am addicted to a quiz which is on every day called Eggheads) I hate all the competitiveness and obsession with medals, and when anyone does something exceptional, they say they must have cheated with drugs. The opening ceremony was extraordinary but I loved all the plump nurses prancing about and our noble queen leaping from a helicopter.   

summertime and the living is easy.........

What a treat to put away the winter clothes at last....... But actually the title of this blog comes from one of the songs we played in a Quaker band on Saturday night at a convent at Wickham near Winchester, with a funny combination of instruments: a cello (me) a piano accordian, two violins, two clarinets and two guitars plus piano.  It was a good weekend and we did all the slightly odd things that Quakers do when they get together, like African drumming, circle dancing, bit of drama, and earnest dicscussions on the the state of the world, plus a bit of yoga -ish cavorting on the lawn before breakfast. I loved it all.  We were looked after at the convent by eight elderly Indian Franciscan nuns.
Daughter J with grand- daughters T and M are walking the South Downs Way this week, with a group of friends and dogs plus a horse and cart carrying their camping gear. If any of the chiildren get tired they can hop on the horse (or the cart) When they left Winchester on Sunday morning, a local vicar came out and blessed them on their journey, hopefully it is all going well and they are lucky with the sunshine though maybe today it is too hot....
I had a pesky virus in my computer which has given me and other people a lot of trouble.  But the good thing about it is that it sent a peculiar message to most people on my contact list (oddly not all) and I have had emails, phone calls and letters from people I have not heard from for ages. Anyone out there who is puzzled by a communication from me online that they do not understand do not OPEN IT! 

and the rain came tumbling down, again.......

After the terrible flood experience up North, I view the rain water cascading down Ditchling High Street with some mistrust. Poor sister J is suffering: waiting for blokes to deal with insurance, flooring, electrics, cleaners, and in the meantime there`s nasty smells in cupboards and under sofas.  It is a nightmare and also there is the possibility that it could happen again.     The only thing for her to do is to lie on said sofa in a darkened  room watching Wimbledon.....     I still have not done this, being the only person in England who has never quite got the hang of tennis so all the excitement is rather lost on me.
I went to London on Thursday to the Royal Academy for the Summer Exhibition with friend D who is a member of RA What an interesting day. The odd choices of the Hanging Committee, the huge sums of money spent on Nursery School daubs, the hundreds of red dots on miniscule prints of Tracey Emin`s work, left me amazed. Of course, there were some wonderful paintings and sculptures too, and I thoroughly enjoyed the whole experience. Why do I not go to London to exhibitions more often?
I am trying to understand about the Higgs Boson. I will have to ask the grandhildren. It may change all our lives like the microchip and computers and mobile phones, but I am still to find out exactly how. 

water, water, everywhere

The great grand baby is beautiful (still unnamed) and I held him and gazed at him to my hearts content.Also it was lovely to see my other two GGbabies and my GG niece. 
I stayed with sister J who has recently moved to a village a few miles from Newcastle.   She had just got the place straight after the move, hundreds of books, new underfloor heatin, gleaming wood floors, spanking white paint,  when disaster struck on Thursday afternoon. A sudden violent thunderstorm and the whole area was flooded.  I had always thought that you only got floods in low lying spots near rivers, but J`s house is up a steep hill.  The water poured in making the most terrifying noise and we rushed around in panicseizing  rugs and moving things The cats got marooned in a corner, and we were all soon covered in thick mud which has settled on every surface.  No electricity, so we had a candle lit night upstairs calling out through the windows to the helpful neighbours who wading about trying  to unblock the drains and divert the flow of water. I felt sad to leave my poor sister in her devastated home when I came home on Friday, but there was nothing more I could do until the insurance people came to assess the damage.  All the trains were disrupted on the way home so I got home very late on Friday night. My little cottage seemed a warm dry haven, so I will stop moaning about it`s insufficiencies. But I suppose the floods could happen anywhere, even hilly Ditchling?

another little darling...

A third great grandson arrived last night but I do not know his name yet. So I am hotfooting it up to Newcastle tomorrow to see him and his lovely parents, and others of my dear family up north. I always love the journey on the train via exciting St Pancras and Kings Cross and the magic moment when the train crosses the Tyne bridge. I have been watching the programmes on the television with Michael Portillo following Bradshaws train routes and they have made me really relish trains, bridges, Victorian stations and viaducts.
I left my old bike outside the house, unlocked, when I bought my new one in the hope that someone would like it, and yesterday a beautiful Polish woman did just that. She said she made a habit of rescuing battered bicycles and restoring them. She was interested that mine was a Swiss Olympic bike, given to me by a real live Swiss person called Heidi  from my writing group many years ago She brought me a delicious vegan chocolate cake as a present.  What a happy transaction.
  

ride on, ride on in majesty.....

Today it is the Great London to Brighton Bike Ride and they all go past my cottage like a swarm of angry wasps, thousands of them. I have just seen the first one. The great advantage is that there is hardly any other traffic and there wasn`t yesterday either as it was the great Ditchling Fair (the 700th!)   Unbelievably it was a lovely sunny day, and all us villagers plus hundreds of others thoroughly enjoyed it. I helped with the book stall for the Quakers, and as usual came home with yet more books than I tried to get rid of. Dame Vera Lynn who lives in Ditchling crowned the Queen.
The night before we had a `Glyndebourne` evening at the Village Hall. A film, rather than real live singers ,but we all dressed up and had a delicious picnic food and bubbly. As soon as the opera started (L`elisir  d`amore) I remembered.  I do not like opera and never did, it gets on my nerves. So I slumbered through quite a lot of it and never did discover who married who in the end. Still it was a splendid evening.
I love the story of the nine year old who wrote a blog about her school dinners and was banned by the local governors for showing photographs of unappetising meals and saying unkind things about the dinner ladies. Perhaps I should try to be more controversial.......    

It is a bit late to write about the Jubilee now but I can`t resist a few thoughts on it. There were some highspots: the diamond children`s choir in St Paul`s singing that beautiful anthem, which brought tears to my eyes, the sodden choir on the Thames, valiantly singing Rule Britannia, wet to the bone, but still smiling,and the light show on Buckingham Palace whilst Madness were singing on the roof during that ghastly concert.
The wind and the rain have done their worst, and I keep thinking how much nicer it would all have been if the sun had shone...... But one good thing is that my little backyard is flourishing in all the wetness, everything is growing frantically and it looks green.
We had a very good film in the Village Hall the other night, Budrus, which was about a peaceful demonstration in a small town in the Occupied Territories in Palestine. The people were so dignified,  and they were joined eventually in their protest by Israelis and others.   At the end there was a round of applause which is not usual.
One sad thing in Ditchling is that the choir is temporarily stopping, not enough support particularly from the MEN. We must save our choir, so many of us really love it!

over the hills and far away......

I have decided to ignore the Queens Jubilee. I was going to go to the Ditchling Jubilee Lunch in the churchyard but all the tickets have gone, so I will concentrate instead on the Ditchling Fair which only takes place on alternate years and has been doing so for 700 years! It is not till 16th June, but there is a scarecrow competition so that will take me a bit of time to make.   Sadly I have no crows to scare in my little backyard, but I can make one anyway.  The choir are singing, twice, and I am helping with the refreshments and the Quaker bookstall.. So it is all go.
The rust bucket passed its MOT so I will continue to drive the scruffiest car in Ditchling which is not good for my image, but I can still whizz over the Beacon to Brighton and elsewhere.       I went for a wonderful bike ride yesterday with F- over- the- road, who knows the all good places, nice villages called Plumpton, Streat, Westmeston, Chillington, and we went in to two Saxon churches and a lovely country pub for lunch. I have to get off at the measliest of hills these days with my creaky knees, but I do love being out in the countryside.
  

Safely home again

Family and friends were concerned that I might have perished in the earthquake in Italy.Happily we knew little about it as there was no radio, TV or newspapers where I was staying. It was chilly there, unlike the heatwave here, but the sun did shine most days,Italy was as beautiful as ever, and the little towns on the hilltops, quiet and timeless.  There were cuckoos and hoopoes in the garden, cherries on the trees, wonderful wild flowers everywhere and roses too.  I did not venture into the lake to swim, but indefatigible friends J and P did.  There was a water shortage and often only a splutter from the tap, so a big deep bath when I got home last night was a treat, but it was a lovely holiday.
I am now waiting with baited breath to find out whether my much loved old rust bucket of a car has passed its MOT, if not I have the dreadful worry of dealing with second hand car dealers, a nightmare for elderly persons like me.

packing the passport, pills, pyjamas and poetry books.

I am getting ready for my trip to Italy. Oh what a worry it is all is, checking in on line, making sure I get to Gatwick on time, remembering to pack my blood pressure pills, and enough to read, then the fearful prospect of catching a train in Rome to the remote spot in Umbria where old friends P and J are already ensconced.  However I went there once before at this time of year and it was warm and beautiful so hopefully it is worth all the angst.
It is festival time in Brighton and the streets are heaving with musicians, actors, young hopefuls, even the Quaker Meeting House today where I `m working for my Saturday stint has a play about evacuees which did not fit my memories at all of that era, still I enjoyed hearing the songs.
At home, a man comes to start on the roof, strips off the old stuff.  He enters the kitchen for his cup of tea (two sugars)and shakes his head mournfully `there`s going to be trouble with that downpipe` he tells me, then  discovers there are roadworks in South Street all next week so has gone away again. All this after the wettest April and May and ominous damp patches are appearing....

Bluebells, nightingales and cuckoos

I am just off to the woods in search of the above, with my Ditchling friend F and dog. It is deluging with rain. It has been the wettest April on record, but apparently there is still a drought in East Sussex. Spring is rushing by too quickly and I am not getting enough of it. It all gets to be more precious, and this has been brought home to me lately, firstly by a spate of funerals and memorial meetings. I am off to my fourth in Winchester on Saturday. They are good occasions for getting together with my mates but sobering none the less.
Also I have been visiting B with a broken leg in a ward full of confused elderly women. I have to remind myself that last week they probably looked quite all right when they had had their hair done and were happily making cakes and jam for the WI.
I  have hopefully established an early morning swimming routine at last at the pool in Burgess Hill, it was almost empty when I was there last Monday. Trouble is, I keep geting lost in the hinterland of Burgess Hill, it is rather like the dreaded Basingstoke with endless roundabouts.   Quite scary.
Still I will persevere.   

And the rain it raineth every day........

I went to the Village Quiz last night. Nearly a hundred of us crammed into the Barn on the green Such excitement and enthusiasm! Our table won and as I staggered home at nearly midnight through the churchyard, drunk with success, and the many bottles of wine we had consumed , I reflected on our competitive natures, but also how Ditchlingites organise everything so very well.It was a splendid evening. And the fish and chip supper was good too.
It has rained a bit this week, and there was an ominous puddle near the toaster.  So I had to get the dreaded builders in. It is the flat roof over the kitchen. Oh what a worry. I always fear that old women living alone are such easy prey for cowboy builders.  Probably a bit of polyfilla would have done the trick.

The Red and the Black.

Red and black was what or village choir wore for our trip to Cherburg to sing The Wreck of the Titanic on Saturday night.  It was a long way to go to perform a work that lasted just over an hour, but it was a memorable trip. It all went without a hitch, `no wrecks and nobody drownded, in fact nowt to laugh at at all` as the Stanley Holloway monologue goes, for us, though sadly not for the fifteen hundred on the Titanic exactly a hundred years earlier.    There was a harrowing exhibition at the Museum in Cherburg which really brought the awfulness of it all home to me.
Lunch on Sunday was An Experience. I ate oysters for the first time, everything tasted delicious and looked exquisite. The French just know how to do it.   
On the Friday before it was our lovely Julia`s seventh anniversary. We had a family get together and read some of her poems to each other. How we all do still miss her.

I still have a spectacular cough and cannot smell or taste anything. I hope this improves during the week as I have a very croaky voice, so will not be able to sing well for our choir trip to Cherburg for the Wreck of the Titanic,or taste the good French food.
I have been away in Bristol staying with eldest son over from US who was working at the university, and also my friend J. I went to the Bristol Art gallery to see the Leonardo da Vinci drawings (microscopically small, we were given a magnifying glass) and Eric Ravilious paintings which I love, also woodcuts by Peter Reddick who was a Quaker artist who never charged much for his works so that ordinary people could buy them.    
It is a dreary wet Easter Sunday but we need the rain. As usual I forgot to buy any Easter eggs until yesterday and not a single one could I find, all sold out.  When you think you can buy hot cross buns from Christmas onwards, it is odd that they don`t produce enough chocolate eggs, I feel I should complain to someone about it.

Raised Eyebrows

I have been poorly for about a week, watching my temperature rise and fall, feeling shivery, filling hot water bottles, coughing, sneezing, wincing at shooting pains in the head, Oh I`ve been a sorry sight. I am now recovered, just about. On the plus side, there has been a Schubert fest on Radio 3 which has been a delight, all his works played by top notchers. If I had not been ill I would never have heard it all.  Facts about Schubert: he was one of eighteen children (most of them died) and they all lived in one room. He never owned a piano, but borrowed one occasionally from a friend who signalled that the piano was free by leaving his curtains undrawn.
I was out with daughter J yesterday who went to a beauty parlour to have her legs waxed. Greatly daring, I had my eyebrows shaped, ie plucked, having noticed Judy Dench`s finely shaped eyebrows in her latest film:Marigold Hotel. What an improvement! They had become bushy and witchlike. And it was totally painless.
As well as Schubert this week, I have a superb book to read: Cutting For Stone by Abraham Verghese, enthralling.

It was the first performance of the Wreck of the Titanic last night.  Oh what a palaver getting there! Picking up the villagers en route to Southampton on a double decker bus, all seventy five of us, took time and we got caught in the rush hour traffic getting in to the city. Also the driver had to have a forty five minute break because of elf and safety, so it all took over four hours and some were looking a bit queasy on the bus. We were greeted by the sight and sound of a huge childrens orchestra (with stiffeners and conductor from Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra)  It all came together in the end and was very moving   Apparently there will be another big childrens orchestra in Cherburg when we go there in three weeks time. Amazing. 
We did Easter with the Infants on Wednesday. Many of them had never heard the story before. We made Easter gardens which was very messy with soil and twigs and moss all over the floor but they loved it.  So did I.

London`s Burning......

Off to Newcastle in the morning to see all my dear family and celebrate two birthdays. Also to see sister J who has just moved up there too from Germany. So no more trips to the beautiful Lake Constance, but it is good to have her in the same country again.
At the Infants today, we re enacted the Great Fire of London in the playground. Mr T was in charge and I had the water bucket at the ready, while another helper paced around like a bullfighter flourishing the fire blanket. The sixty children roared and yelled with joy when the paper houses they had made went up in flames.  It was very exciting.
The Wreck of the Titanic is coming on a treat.  Some of us have started planning gourmet meals in Cherburg after the performance.

People have started to phone and email to see if I am still alive as I have not blogged for a while. I have been back to Winchester for a few days, always a treat, but it also is nice to be back in dizzy Ditchling.
We are hotting up for The Wreck of the Titanic, the village choir`s French and Southampton debut. I was right about the Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, but only a few members of it ,plus a childrens choir and orchestra, but there are eighty villagers in our choir so it will be quite a big do.  There will be a bit in the midddle where a small group of musicians including our conductor will perform the same music that was played as the Titanic sunk.
One of my neighbours has fitted up his garage as a luxurious little cinema and he puts on old films every week. I have just been along to see Great Expectations, the 1946 version. It was gripping, and just as spooky and frightening to me at the beginning as when I first saw it. They never got the voices and accents quite right in those old films though, everyone speaks posh.

Don`t Call the Midwife....

It is my twin sons birthday today which has made me think about their birth in hospital in Winchester,  fifty two years ago.  It was fairly easy and straightforward as far as I remember, though I did have a secret fear that they would be siamese twins and I did not know how I would manage. It was a great relief when they arrived separately   But there have been all these programmes on the television: Call the Midwife and One Born Every Minute which go though the whole process in excruciating detail.  Everyone loves these shows and I do too, but I wonder how anyone has the courage to have a baby at all after watching them.
I have been thinking about moving from this cottage.  I took the plunge and called in at the estate agents. (I have always had an irrational fear of them.)  I looked at a few flats. Inconvenient as this place is, with its steep stairs, roaring traffic outside, nowhere to park, my car being bashed into on a regular basis, no buses ,and nowhere to hang your hat and coat, it is nicer than those flats with their plasticky doors and windows and imitation fireplaces. So I think I will stay put for the time being, unless something amazing turns up.    

Bicycles and Babies.

I have just bought a new bicycle. I think I will call her Minty as she is white with a pale green front lamp.    My trusty old bike that took me over the Pennines on the `Sea to Sea `and along the Seine to Rouen,amongst other epic rides, is too high for me to climb on to with my dodgy knees. The new one has smaller wheels and a lower crossbar. I went for a trial run along to the library in Hassocks and whizzed up the hills. It doesseem a bit foolhardy at my age as my cycling days must be numbered but I can pass it on to one of my family when I finally wobble off.
I have just had a letter to say that my old age pension has gone up by about a fiver a week but also that I have an allowance for being over eighty of 25p a week. (In fact I must have got that last year but did not notice)  I am wondering how I could usefully spend this largesse?
The eldest grand daughters from Newcastle have come to stay for half term with their lovely baby boys, Arthur and Marlo. Interesting to look at their chubby faces and try to trace the family noses and chins.  The two year old has brought his wooden toy cooker with him which he drives about like a car, the timer is the speedometer.

the more it snows, tiddley pom

Another film.Memories of Uncle Moonmee at the Ditchling film club, which was completely weird, all about ghosts, a princess ghost having a nasty skirmish with a catfish at one point.
The snow finally came after several freezing days, I have been sitting reading on the sofa, wrapped up in a rug with a hot water bottle, the heating full on and still feeling cold.  The snow has turned to slush this evening which is a disappointment as I was quite looking forward to being marooned here in Ditchling in deep snow like last year.   I went to Meeting this morning using my new walking poles and strode along boldly. The Quakers, undeterred, turned up in full force, having walked, cycled and some even drove.
My son T came and mended everything: the Hoover, the clock, and he helped me order a new bulb for the lamp which now thankfully works. What a relief.
I have just watched Songs of Praise and joined in all the hymns with gusto. A treat for a Quaker.

reasons not be cheerful

I am by nature optimistic but sometimes it is an effort. Firstly the Hoover has packed up for no discernable reason and I am a keen Hooverer. Secondly the big hand fell off the grandfather clock as I was winding it up, and thirdly my reading lamp won`t work. Then the infuriatingly smug weather forecasting woman said that a Big Freeze is coming. However, cold dreary January is almost over and there are crocuses and snowdrops along the Ditchling Road.
I had a busy but interesting time at Brighton Meeting House yesterday, a big Amnesty meeting plus the usual Saturday crowd. I discovered that the Ethiopian children are not learning English, they are being taught how to speak Ethiopian!
I have an action packed Sunday ahead. I am now Clerk at Ditchling Meeting. I have never been very good at dates and times so my giving out of the notices at the end of meeting leaves much to be desired.  I am trying to improve, but often leave everyone greatly confused.      We have a bring and share lunch (always a gastronomic treat) and a talk today. Then the choir later this afternoon with plans for our French debut in April with The Wreck of the Titanic.

I saw three films last week, how decadent is that?  I enjoyed Iron Lady. It took me back to the eighties with all the awfulness of Maggie Thatcher.   Meryl Streep was competely convincing. It was the mean little eyes, the tilt of the head and the walk.    Then I saw The Artist a black and white silent movie with a wonderful dog in it, something different and original about that film that was very appealing.  Both of those were on at the ghastly Cineworld in Brighton Marina which has a nightmarish car park.  What a relief to go to the wonderful Ditchling film club which is literally two minutes round the corner in the Village Hall where I saw In the Mood for Love, which was a Chinese film, sad and subtle, beautifully acted.
The Ditchling Village Choir is branching out. We are going to sing a new work called The Wreck of the Titanic and perform it in Southampton and Cherbourg with the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra. It does sound rather unlikely. Perhaps I have got it slightly wrong?    (I think some other choir may be joining us)

How can I keep from singing......

We had a Twelfth Night party at the Meeting House in Ditchling. I had suggested a musical event. They had never had one before. I was anxious, thought no one would turn up ( I often think this as friends will know) It was amazing. Such talent!  Friends brought instruments:a concertina, flute, keyboard, guitars.  They did solos, joined in with gusto to sing and read poetry. They want to have a repeat event soon.
Then on Sunday evening I went to Horsham Folk Club. I was driven through deserted country roads and the streets of Horsham to a packed village hall where all and sundry leapt up, sang, played, recited, mostly older people. It cheers me up no end.
Just off to the cinema to see The Iron Lady. Another good thing about being an Old Retired Person, you can go to the films in the afternoons without feeling guilty.

Write on...

I went to Winchester to Frances MacKeith`s funeral on Thursday. She died peacefully aged ninety seven after an extraordinary life, A lifelong campaigner for peace, she went on protesting and being arrested well into her nineties. I have such memories of her at Greenham in the eighties, of joining her on marches in London, peace vigils, petitions, she never gave up.  I also played in string quartets with her for years, she was always up for it. We played fairly inaccurately but with immense enthusiasm at least once a week. She had a cracking funeral,a real celebrration of her life.
On the way there I had a slight altercation with a bus so my battered car is even more disreputable than ever. And then I put my mobile phone through a warm wash in the machine, so I have not started the new year very well,  but here are my New Year Resolutions:
1.Start a new writing project: bits of my `memoir` that I forgot to put in  (there have been requests for more of the forties and fifties)  
2.The usual: eat less and exercise more, get off that sofa!
3.Write a poem a week, not that anyone wants to read them, but it makes me feel better.