Home, sweet home

I returned to blessed Ditchling last night after the long long train journey from Newcastle which was even longer than usual because of `work on the line`.  I had a bus trip around the wilds of East Grinstead,  and several long waits on chilly, windswept stations.  B.Wiggins slept throughout except when the refreshment trolley came round but even he could not stomach the flabby egg sandwich I foolishly bought. 

He and I had some wonderful walks in the forests and hills around the Derwent Valley while we were away,.though the weather was blustery at times. I stayed with dear sister J, and also saw the rest of the tribe including three great grandsons and such well turned out polite boys they are too, it made my great grandmotherly heart swell with pride.  There was the deliciousness of Christmas meals, and rather more wine and G and T`s than is my usual habit, and several spirited games of Scvrabble plus time to read new books: All in all a joyful time.

And now back to decorous  Dumbrells Court and my cosy bungalow.   I wrote out my New Year Resolutions on the train:  Apart from trying to be a kinder and more considerate Old Person and Dog Owner, I resolve to :  : Get my bathroom `done`    (it has horrid pale avocado bath and basin etc)    

Finish arranging and paying for my funeral,  Finish a writing project I have been doing for ages,  Get an IPhone like a proper grown up person instead of the £10 one from Tesco`s,  (then I can bore everyone with photos of my dog,and grandchildren as I am always being swooped on by people showing me their pet`s pictures on buses and trains)   But the most important resolution of all is to  be creative and have as many good times as possible with family and friends and Make the Most of Life  In the words of our beloved Julia: While we can, while we can.........

Back to me bungalow for a bit....

I have been away for almost a week, first to Winchester, then to Limpley Stoke (lovely name, lovely place) then back to Winch again, seeing old, old friends and some young ones too and a new baby, I stayed with son T and grandson M.  who cut my hair for me, very well, and that was a first.   I took L out for lunch and pushed her in her wheel chair, and it is only when you do this that you realise how bumpy the pavements are and how difficult it is to negotiate kerbs, doorways and steps.    I visited B in her new Care Home at Arlesford where they like dogs (she has Charlie there with her and B.Wiggins was welcomed)     I also had a lovely evening with E and B (ex Meeting House residents) and their five beautiful children including a three week old baby, whom I seized as soon as I arrived and had a really good session getting to know.   Such a treat. She almost fell asleep at one point and I asked one of the others where her cot was and she said `Oh we didn`t think we would have any more babies so we gave it away`.  
I am never properly prepared for Christmas. When will I ever learn? Three members of my music group gave me beautifully wrapped parcels and cards yesterday. It had never entered my head to do the same   This also happened several times in Winchester. Oh the mortification!    I am hopeless at wrapping up presents, always have been and I have never got the hang of sellotape.
I went to a good party the other night: Bring and Share veggie supper, very little alcohol, but we were asked to put our names in a hat to do a turn: a song, a poem, a game a dance.  A very elderly woman who had been a jazz singer with a band in her youth, sang poignant songs accompanied by another elderly guitarist, someone told a story, many of us did poems.  Nine year old grand daughter Tiger was master of ceremonies and as I think I have said before, she is brilliant at `crowd control`so it was a well organised affair.
Next I have the Old Folks Christmas do ( for my sheltered housing place)  I wonder how that will turn out. Rather formal I expect but you never know........
Then I am off Up North for a week to see my lovely family and B.Wiggins will have to make friends with sister J`s two formidable cats. I think they are bigger than him.    

Stirrng things up.......

Stir Up Sunday has been and gone, and I did not stir a single pudding or cake.   My mum would line us up to stir and wish, and I did the same with my family and my Nursery School kids. Of recent years  cakes have sometimes sunk in the middle or got a bit burnt so perhaps I will not make one this year,  but I will miss the deliciousness of the thin slice of rich fruit cake with a cup of Earl Grey tea in a bone china cup on wintry afternoons in January.
I saw a moving and harrowing film called Amour at the Ditchling Film Club. All about old age and death and a husband devotedly caring for his wife after a stroke.   The next day I decided to pay for and organise my funeral, so I went to talk to nice Sharon at the undertakers in Hassocks to discuss the options.
` I think I can see you in the Woodland option rather than the crem,` said Sharon, her head on one side, looking me up and down.   
On a more cheerful note, B.Wiggins has been behaving impeccably so there have been no more tellings off from the headmaster at Dumbrells Court. We have had some wonderful walks in the woods at Ditchling Common, though I did get lost recently just as it was getting dark. I was so relieved when another dog walker hove in site and told me the way out of the woods. I did not think it was possible to get lost these days.
I went to a wonderful concert in Brighton in aid of the Bophal Medical Foundation. The disaster was 29 years ago and the people there are still suffering. James Bowman, the countertenor sang some of my favourite songs Linden Lea, Down By The Sally Gardens, Where Corals Lie, and others. It was sheer bliss.

Busy doing nothing....

I am getting anxious about Christmas presents. I trudge round terrible Burgess Hill gazing at `Christmas Gift Ideas` with despair. The trouble is that I only ever want to buy the sort of things I want myself, such as bath stuff, chocolate and books. Also I am hopeless at wrapping things up and usually wheedle a nearby grand child to do it, but this year the Brighton family are decamping to India for a fortnight so will not be around.    I am going up to my Newcastle family,  so I have visions of myself stumbling along from St Pancras to Kings Cross with Bradley Wiggins`s  lead getting tangled up in people`s luggage trolleys and me carrying badly wrapped unwieldy parcels.  So today I am going on a hunt for what Joyce Grenfell used to call `useful and inexpensive gifts` of small proportions.  And what are we all going to do about cards this year? Just send emails or ring people up and send the money to disaster funds?   Perhaps.
Bradley Wiggins has done two clever things lately.  I went to the Film Club in the Village hall last week and when I came back the TV was on very loud. He had sat on the remote and was on the sofa watching the ten oclock news. The week before he somehow managed to sit on the phone and ring someone up. What next I wonder,e mails?
At the Infants this week, Teacher was telling the children how to do nothing,  meditating in other words. I have been thinking about it ever since. 

Love me, love my dog......

I got told off by the Headmaster (manager of Dumbrells Court)for letting Bradley Wiggins run about on his long extending lead and barking. He said he was intimidating the inmates. I felt suitably chastened and now have him on a short lead and I carry him if any one hoves in sight. Most of said residents do seem to like him but it is easy to forget as a dog owner that not everyone loves them as we do. There was a brilliant play on at the Village Hall last week: the amdram performed `Quartet` which has also been a recent film, and is about four elderly residents in a home for retired musicians. Most of the audience was elderly too (in fact one fainted and had to be carried out during the first act)so it was a good choice of play and it was so well acted. I have never had much luck with bird tables. Other people get intersting birds like woodpeckers, wrens and long tailed tits. i only ever get big brash, cheeky magpies. and a few dusty pigeons. I wish I could get to like them.

Oh, wild west wind......

I was all keyed up for the biggest storm since 1987 and then it was quite mild here in quiet sedate Dumbrells Court, though people not so far away had power cuts. Brother P came to stay last week and we were just settling down to a play to kill game of scrabble when the electricity went off. I couldn`t find candles or matches -lost in the move, and it was a while before we could get back to our game, (which was a tie!) So I learned a lesson to buy some candles and torches. I realise that if there were more power cuts this winter I wouldn`t even be able to make a cup of tea which is a sobering thought, but in the meantime it is cosy and comfortable here. I keep discovering new and interesting footpaths on early morning walkies with B. Wiggins (better now that the clocks have gone back) and I am getting niftier over the many stiles. B W is now used to all the rabbits, geese and sheep (on a lead of course) Grand daughter M is going to a world U.N. conference on Climate Change in Poland. She is travelling to Warsaw by coach, 24 hours. I suppose I did uncomfortable things like that when i was her age, but I worry about her, though I am proud of her too for going. We had a good quiz night last Friday in the Village Hall. I was the only one on our table to know that Hans Brinker was the the name of the boy who stuck hos thumb in the dyke to save Holland from being flooded, but I was woefully ignorant of Olympic sporting heroes and pop music idols. But it was a lovely evening with delicious food, a typical Ditchling event.

on the buses

One of the many delights of old age is going on the buses. Most of the passengers are oldies like me, anxiously gripping our wheelie baskets and fumbling with our bus passes. I don`t think I have ever been on a Brighton bus without engaging in a lively conversation, sometimes an entire life story. The younger generation, often mums and dads with buggies, totally ignore their offspring and spend the entire journey on their phones tapping out messages feverishly and gazing anxiously at their screens. The only time we all communicate is when there is a madcap driver who careers round corners and brakes suddenly.I really love it It makes up for no longer being a cyclist The carpet men came yesterday (carpeteers?) Wesley and Sunny. it was a chaotic experience.I had to move all the books yet again, the grandfather clock was carried out into the garden, I was stumbling over bedclothes and cushions and rolls of carpet. Fortunately B. Wiggins was parked at daughter J`s otherwise it would have been even more like a Marx brothers film. But it now looks pristine and elegant, though this may soon be defiled by B.W`s muddy feet. I still have no curtains in the sitting room but only the squirrels and rabbits can see in. Otherwise apart from putting up some more pictures It is finished. I am trying to get to grips with a new lot of names for my Wednesday afternoon voluntary job at the Infants. I am always learning new things there This week it was that a spider is not an insect as it has eight legs, and insects have six. I had got to the age of eighty three without knowing that.

Eighty three is neither here nor there......

My first birthday in my new home. I have a wonderful postman who just picks out the letters to the old place in Ditchling and brings them here, no need for re forwarding by the expensive Post Office. That`s service for you. What with texts, emails, e cards, and the Jolly Postman, I have had a heart warming birthday. Brother P,daughter J and grand daughters M and G plus Jumble and B.Wiggins and I had lunch in Hyde Park by the Sepentine (one of the few places that welcomes dogs) and very nice it was too. As it was National Poetry Day, we all recited the only poem which we knew all through by heart and quite surprised ourselves. Mr Wiggins and I like the bung. I luxuriate in walking from room to room without laboriously climbing up and down the stairs. I am getting to know my neighbours (I have a Dorothy next door and everybody needs a Dorothy in their lives) who is out in the garden at 7am in her nightie feeding the squirrels. Everyone is helpful and pleasant. I have been picking blackberries on my morning dog walks. The autumn films in the Village Hall have started We had The Well Diggers Daughter, on Thursday, a French film that I had seen before but enjoyed just as much the second time, and last week Whistle Down the Wind, an old black and white from the sixties, a brilliant film. Lunch out today with son C and gg E. Life is such a social whirl here in Dumbrells Court. We went to the Ram at Firle another place which positively welcomes dogs, there was one sitting under every table and next to us actually UP at the table.

Home Sweet Home.

Well here I am at last in my newly painted sitting room looking out on to a green field and a clump of oak trees. There are several plump rabbits lolloping about in the field and three squirrels on the bird table plus birds of various shapes and sizes fluttering around. This is a nice change from the juggernauts roaring past St Dominic`s Cottage. Also I can go from room to room, (all four of them) without negotiating precipitous stairs, so I am glad I moved. Moving house is like childbirth. You forget how excruciating it was once it is over. Daughter J did amazingly sterling work unpacking boxes and helping on the actual day and son T has just been to stay for a couple of days and he did the computer, tuned the TV and re assembled the grandfather clock. I had been muttering threats to get rid of the clock as I thought it looked a bit silly in this little bungalow but now it is installed, I find its familiar ticking comforting. I am so glad to have my laptop working again. I feel quite at home here already. B.Wiggins is happy. There are good dog walks round here, and I do not have to walk along the roads. We come home from our early morning walkies soaked from the foggy foggy dew.

On the move at last!

Just when I had almost given up hope, the solicitor (holiday stand in) took pity on my plight and said I can have the key of the blessed bungalow on Friday. I have got sort of used to sleeping on daughter J`s sofa in the front room with the two dogs and trying to dash into the bathroom of a morning before the Japanese lodger. You have to have your wits about you in this game i can tell you. I must juggle now with the carpet man, the painters and the moving and storage chaps, It is daunting. I will also have to spend hours on the phone to Calcutta for BT and the gas and the electric. Daughter J thought I needed a boost so booked up for me to have my eyebrows `shaped` and a facial massage this morning. It was lovely. I lay on a couch in a dimly lit beauty parlour with plinky plonk music playing whilst luscious creams were patted and rubbed into my wrinkled old face. I felt thoroughly rejuvenated. I asked Michelle, the massage person if she had other old people and she said`Oh lots, one old gent comes regularly to have his eyelashes tinted. Last Saturday. some of us Ditchling Quakers went to Balcombe with anti fracking banners and held a Meeting for Worship by the gate where the lorries to the fracking site go in and out. We were joined by about a dozen from the site. There was a formidable police presence nearby. The protest camp is spread out along both sides of a busy road so it is not pleasant for the campers. I am glad that I went.

Back to the Old Familiar Places....

I stayed last week in clean, tidy, respectable Winchester. It is such a contrast to sleazy old Brighton, though I love both cities. Kind friends and family welcomed me and fed me and it was good to see all the old familiar places and faces. Progress seems to be being made with the move. I signed an official looking document from the solicitor,but I still have nor got the ever elusive date for completion. I am awaiting a reply from an eloquent and strongly worded letter to the chief boss of Peverel, the firm that administers Dumbrells Court which is the old folks complex where I hope to live. Before I printed and sent it off, I passed it round the family who added even more heart-rending details of my predicament. The letter will probably go into the waste paper basket but it made us all feel better. After the weekend back in Brighton,where its lovely to be with daughter J who has been such a help and tower of strength through all my troubles, I am going back to Winchester today with B. Wiggins who will enjoy being with Charlie, a West Highland terrier and his owner B where we will say for a few days. Next Saturday, I hope to be at the at anti fracking protest at Balcombe and we also hope to hold a Quaker Meeting for Worship there. I have finished Sweet Tooth by Ian McEwan. I loved it. It is set in Cambridge, London and Brighton and is all about MI5 It made me wonder if they`ve got a file on me after many years of demos, protests and letters. I am feeling bereaved as I have not got a good book to go on to, so I will have to trawl the charity shops tomorrow, I am out of touch with the Library now that I am homeless.

still no news........

I have been having a terrible time writing this blog. Twice I have inexplicably lost it just as I was about to press the publish button It really is strange where lost emails and texts go to, I imagine them all drifting sadly about in limbo. I will have one more shot at it as it is now after midnight. I am back to the soft south. I love going up to Newcastle but I could never live up there.I am a southerner through and through. But it was lovely to stay with sister J and have delicious meals cooked for me and gin and tonics plus nibbles prompt at six and morning tea in bed. It was good to see great grand kids,little Arthur and baby Ossie (Marlo was away)and also great nieces Martha and Ellen. It was Julia`s 57th birthday on 21st August so some of us went to Old Jessie cemetery and took flowers to her grave. It is a very nice grave. A stone bench with beautiful lettering (chosen by Julia) and it has some lines of her poetry engraved on the side. Well we sat there for a bit and I remembered all the birthdaya at the Mill in the Isle of Wight, and though I felt tearful,I was glad to be there. We went for a nice meal afterwards at Live Theatre, one of J`s favourite haunts. I read a good book while I was away by the Irish author Colm Toibin, called The Blackwater Lightship. I really like his work. The book has stayed with me for days as all the good ones do. I am now reading the latest Ian McEwan, Sweet Tooth and I am into it straightaway. Still no news of the b------w I can`t even bear to write the word. I am destined to wander over the face of the earth for ever sleeping on sofas and keeping my belongings in suitcases.

Off Up North

The solicitor reports that the new deeds for the bungalow are in a file on someone`s desk  in London, I picture a dusty Dickensian office with feeble shortsighted clerks with quill pens.    You would think they were preparing the Magna Carta.     I have given up hope of ever moving, so I am going up North to visit sister J and grand daughters plus the three baby boy great grandchildren. I am leaving B.Wiggins in Brighton as it is such a long train journey and he barks at men carrying suitcases.
I went to the Isle of Wight for the day last Monday. It took hours on buses, trains, ferries, and more buses and poor B. Wiggins got bored, especially when we missed a ferry going home and we were stuck on the end of Ryde Pier for an hour in the gathering dusk. But I had a lovely day and nearly went in the sea for a swim at FreshwaterBay.   There were lots of Darlings and friends and relations and I wish I had decided to stay longer.
I am about to challenge daughter J to a game of Scrabble. Along with the daily cryptic crossword puzzle it may help to keep the brain active. i read in the Guardian that two cups of hot chocolate a day improve the blood flow to the brain and prevent memory loss, so I am trying that too. I rather like it.
 

the long hot summer......

I  have delayed writing, hoping that I would have news of the move, but alas, the phone remains silent and I am left twiddling my thumbs, and feeling more and more puzzled by the delay.
In the meantime I have been away for four nights and action packed days in Kendal with dear friends D and M who took me to Grasmere for two poetry readings and to Brantwood, home of Ruskin where we sat in the drawing room with one of the best views in England, listening to a nice old girl reading from The Stones of Venice and other Ruskin writings. We also went to a Potfest in Penrith with potters from all over the world held in the cattle market with smells of the farmyard mixed with clay.  It was all so beautiful up there in Cumbria and I so wish I could still walk or cycle over those hills as I used to do.   
I am now at daughter J`s in Brighton, though the family are away on their annual exodus to the Isle of Wight. I am here with the quiet Japanese lodger and an elderly cat. Also B. Wiggins of course. I go to the Park twice a day with the latter and meet a different crew from the Ditchling dog walkers. Here they are mostly gay men with a sprinkling of old women like me.and  Wiggo plays wih a Great Dane called Eric, a pug called Moses and several lean greyhounds while the owners and I chat about our pets.   Back home, I cook for the lodger and hack ineffectually at the over grown front garden and wait for the phone call that never ever comes.......

One day my prince or bungalow will come.........

I am on tenterhooks (what are they I wonder?) about my proposed move. Daughter J and I daily phone offices in London, Hassocks, Haywards Heath, and we get different people every time: :Rohan, Linda, Marion, Charlotte,Jane. Hilary , the names roll off the tongue, and they all say, Oh I`ve just put a letter in the post , an email has been sent, or I`ll ring you back shortly. And then nothing happens.  So we do it all again the next day........
In the meantime I loll about in the heat, doing a bit of cooking for the family, sharing the dog walkies.    I have read several novels including Mark Haddon`s The Red House, Jonathon Coe`s The Terrible Privacy of Maxwell Sim,  Evelyn Waugh`s  Decline and Fall (reread) and others.
They keep saying on the radio `Watch out for old people in the heat` I am not sure what is likely to happen but I feel OK at present
Yesterday, the Ditchling Village choir gave a concert accompanied by Herbie Flowers and our lovely choir master Ian who has shaved all his hair off for a cancer charity and now looks like a gangster   Only one member of the choir fainted in the heat, but the rest of us just dripped with sweat as we belted out The Rhythm of Life and Top of the World.
I am off up to Kendal next Monday to stay with dear ex  neighbours M and D and whilst there will go to some Poetry Events at Grasmere so that will be a treat and take my mind off my  moving problems..

Of No Fixed Abode

Well, I have moved out and am temporarily living with daughter J in Brighton. Yesterday three stalwart youths moved all my wordly goods into storage in the village, including a huge Acer tree,.a Camelia bush and other assorted potted plants and today I did a final clear out and found temporary homes in Ditchling for my cello, the broom, dustpan and brush, Hoover and a basket of food items including Marmite, elderly pots of chutney and the inevitable aged Christmas pudding that I can`t throw away but also cannot bear to eat..  
I am hoping that I will be able to move into the bungalow in a few days,weeks, months,who knows?   House agent, solicitor and manager of Dumbrells Court seem to be forever waiting for letters from each other.  New residents of St Dominics Cottage move in tomorrow and I left them a welcome card and flowers and closed the front door for the last time.  I am now a homeless octegenarian.
But in the meantime it is lovely here and B. Wiggins is very happy too. He went to the beach yesterday with daughter J and Tiger who left him guarding their clothes, but J was suddenly aware he was swimming bravely beside her,  really far out. Fortunately it was dead calm and he doggy paddled his way back safely.
Grand daughter G is in Uganda  for five weeks working at a school for children with special needs. They have hardly any toys or equipment.so we are having some fund raising events to try and send money to buy some while she is still there. We might do barmy dancing in the street like we did on Red Nose day.

Up the Creek for a Week

I `m just back from Cornwall.      I had forgotten how far away it is.    The extra miles from Ditchling to Winchester where I picked up friend B and her dog Charlie makes it a very long drive. We crawled along the A303 amongst  the Glastonbury traffic. I always think I am nearly there when I get to Exeter and then realise it is not even half way. We also went to see dear friends near Penzance and that was miles and miles too but well worth it to see them.  B. Wiggins loved the cottage up the creek as he could run in and out without fear of traffic as it is cut off except at low tide..
On the way home I stayed for a night at Alresford with friend D so did not have to do the whole journey in one go.Then I stopped off for a Retreat Day at The Blue Idiol, an oddly named Quaker Meeting House at Coolham,  (once the home of William Penn, Quaker and founder of Pennsylvania). Whilst there we did a Walking Meditation and a puzzled B. Wiggins joined in, walking very slowly behind me.
Today I am battling with the solicitor again, trying to get a date for The Move. You would think I was buying a stately home instead of a measly little bungalow. I have teams of people waiting to spring into action to help. They will lose interest soon.  . 

Rings round Cambridge

My brother P and I went to Cambridge to see grand daughter G and also to collect her accumulated possessions for the last year in College.  These included large boxes of heavy law books as well as kettles, a collander, saucepans, fairy lights, in fact everything but the proverbial kitchen sink. B.Wiggins and I barely fitted into my microscopic Micra on the way home on the dreaded M.25.   Actually, the motorway was no problem, it was the ring road round Cambridge that defeated us. There are NO road signs so we drove round and round in increasing desperation and then went off in the wrong direction!  But it was a lovely outing and I enjoyed my time away with brother P.
It was the London to Brighton bike race at the weekend and Ditchling came to a standstill with all roads closed to everything but bikes whizzing through   Poignant for me as I have finally decided that my biking days are over. I feel too wobbly, so will sell my lovely Minty, after a lifetime of riding everywhere from the streets of London, to the Winchester water meadows and epic rides in Cumbria and Yorkshire.  .The hills round here are too much for me and besides I now have to go walkies with B. Wiggins and I don`t think he would take kindly to riding in the basket.
I am off to Cornwall on Sunday for a week with friend B and her dog Charlie. As for moving, who knows? I had an interview yesterday with a stern faced solicitor and I signed things but still no date yet. Son C is helping me through all this.  .I don`t know what I would do without him.
Off  to the Infants today. I am trying to compile a little book of `poems` from the children. Most popular subjects: My Cat, My Bike, Football and Spaghetti. 

Midsummer Nights Dream in the afternoon.

I went to the Globe Theatre yesterday with my Monday music group, and we all had a Good Day Out. It was a bit odd seeing MSND as a matinee and I missed the lights and magic of it on the bare stage of the Globe. But it was a wonderful production and beautifully acted. We were on the fourth tier and I quailed at the sight of all the stairs but a kind girl offered to take me up in the lift which involved going backstage and seeing half naked actors dashing about, and bits of scenery and props, so I enjoyed all that. She insisted on taking me up and down in the interval too!
I took B.Wiggins up in the train and and met grand daughter M in the refectory of Southwark Cathedral where they positively welcome dogs. I handed him over to her and she took him over the wobbly bridge and for a walk around St Pauls and then they settled down in a pub with a sofa while she worked on her laptop and he snuggled up. So he had a good day too.
I am just about to brave the M.25 and go for a visit to brother P in Hatfield. It is a wild and windy day, the summer seems to be over.    It has all gone quiet again on the moving front. The solicitor has gone on holiday apparently.   I keep making lists of Things to Do, but no prospect of doing them .

View from a Room In Bloomsbury

I have been gadding up to London all the Bank Holiday weekend though perhaps gadding is not the right word for Britain Yearly Meeting, the annual get together of the Quakers at Friends House in the Euston Road.
I stayed at an hotel in Tavistock Square that was overrun with Quakers which must have been odd for the other people staying there,-all those bearded sandalled men and sensibly shod women.  My room on the eighth floor overlooked the green leafy square and walking  to Friends House several times a day was a delight. In the middle is a statue of Mahatma Gandhi who studied law at UCL (where grandaughter M has just graduated)  and there are memorials to Mothers for Peace, a cherry tree in memory of Hiroshima victims, a memorial to Conscientious Objectors.  There are benches commemorating musicians and artists, a bust of Virginia Woolf, and a plaque to Charles Dickens. Every walk across that square was a voyage of discovery.
It is quite an Experience to be in the midst of up to a thousand Quakers sitting in silence in the large Meeting Room at Friends House  Though of course it was not all silence and there was lots of talk and discussion too as well as meeting up with many old friends.    Every year we have the Swarthmore lecture on Saturday night which I was looking forward to but I was hampered by not having my hearing aids. They mysteriously disappeared just before I left. I suspect B.Wiggins who may have either chewed then up and swallowed them or he has hidden them which he has done before with my spectacles.  
He is on an expedition along the South Downs Way with daughter J and grand daughters M and T plus other dogs, horses and friends They are doing the bit from Brighton to Eastbourne. He must be walking his little legs off and it is pouring with rain today too. But I am driving to Battle later to bring him home. It seems very quiet here in Ditchling without him.

Far From the Madding Crowd

I went to see Far From the Madding Crowd in the Village Hall performed by the local Am Dram Society the other night. My heart sank when I read the programme and saw that there  were thirty nine scenes. My boredom threshold is very low and often find that things go on far too long and sleep intervenes. But it was excellent, very well acted, and I stayed awake throughout. I was worried about the sheep episodes but they were done off stage quite convincingly. Such a dramatic tale it is and thankfully a happy ending. I have started to read some Hardy again but not the very sad ones as they are so upsetting.
There is more drama over the bungalow. I had a letter from the solicitor saying that she has discovered that it is on what was originally Church land and there is something called Chancel tax, dating from the Reformation or some such time.   This means that I could be liable to have to pay for a new church roof.  (And me a Quaker too)  I sent the letter on to son C who has kindly offered to try to sort it out.    My hopes of moving in early June seem doomed to disappointment.

Where Oh Where had my Little Dog Gone?

On Friday, old friends M and N came to visit from Totnes. We went for a walk up Lodge Hill
after lunch with B.Wiggins. It was a lovely sunny afternoon and we were talking away and enjoying the lovely views, but when we started to walk home, we realised that Wiggo was missing. We spent about an hour calling and calling and hunting, wondering if he was stuck down a rabbit hole. Eventually we sadly walked home, only to find him sitting on the doorstep looking very pleased with himself. He had found his way back through all the traffic, a miracle that he had not been run over.  Yesterday, grand daughter M cut his hair. I cannot afford Twinkletoes, the Poodle Parlour at the moment with the impending house move.   He does not look quite so cute without his facial hair (his Bradle Wiggins type ginger sideburns). but he can see better.
No date yet for the move, but as far as I know it is going ahead.It is going to be a DIY job, with grandchildren, sons, daughter and son in law helping. Luckily I got rid of such a lot when I moved from Winchester only three years ago. It will be a bit like Birnam Wood to Dunsinane with all my garden pots, some of which have grown very tall.
I went to hear Tracy Chevalier talk about her new book: The Last Runaway, part of the Brighton Festival. I love her novels (The Girl with the Pearl Earing, Remarkable Creatures and others) She was a brilliant speaker.   I enjoyed the book which is about a Quaker Woman in 1850`s America who helped runaway slaves.  Known as the Underground Railroad,  Quakers and others gave food and shelter to slaves escaping to Canada. I hope the book is made into a film, as it may become a good bit of Quaker Outreach. Tracy Chevalier now often goes to meeting.

May morning missed

I intended to get up at 5am this morning for May 1st, as I read in  the Ditchling Dialogue,that the Morris Men would be dancing on Lodge Hill at sunrise. I woke up in time but then remembered that I don`t like Morris dancing. . It is so aggressive with all that stick bashing and stamping, so I turned over and went back to sleep until  6.30am, when I got up and went for my usual pre brakfast walk wiith B,Wiggins.  I wish it would warm up a bit, I feel cold to my very bones as I sit writing this..    B.Wiggins got trodden on the other day so he is walking on three legs again. He can run very fast and does not seem bothered but I took him to the vet which he thoroughly enjoyed as he is so sociable. There are no broken bones so I suppose it will get better in time, but in the meantime we limp along together, me with my creaking knees and him with his gammy leg. Well they always say that pets and their owners get to resemble each other.
I went to lunch with a new friend the other day. She used to teach at the central School of Speech and Drama. Rather to my surprise she suggested we read a bit of Shakespeare together in the afternoon so we read a chunk of Midsummer Nights Dream and very enjoyable it was too. I think we should read plays together more often.

me and my dog.....

The sun is shining for the third day running today and it ought to be lifting my spirits but I feel full of nameless dread at the the prospect of the impending move to the bloomin bungalow. I am wishing I had never embarked on such a foolhardy plan. It is like someone wondering if they will make a run for it on their wedding day leaving all the guests waiting at the church. Can I at this stage back out?    But then, when I crawl painfully up and down the stairs with my creaking knees and watch and hear the ceaseless roar of traffic outside this cottage, I remember why I decided to move, so I suppose I will go ahead.
Otherwise Ditchling life goes on, with good films in the Village Hall ,Benda Billilili last week which was about a group of Congolese disabled musicians who made good, my three walks a day with B. Wiggins in the lovely countryside, and various Quaker activities at Ditchling and Brighton
Caroline Lucas, the Green Party MP for Brighton addressed the Quaker Socialist Society at Brighton last week and sh was such a breath of fresh air, especially in the midst of all the hype over the Thatcher funeral. She seemed like the `still small voice of calm` Such a good speaker and she dealt so well with a tricky bloke who came in spoiling for a fight.
I always get excited by the London Marathon. I cannot imagine how they do it, though I heard someone on the radio say that you don`t run a Marathon with your legs but with your head. 
One good thing: I have replaced the rust bucket with a similar model but with no bumps or scratches or gaffer tape keeping the bumper on. I was driven to it by a slipping clutch which could not quite make it over the Beacon.  

My family and other animals.......

I have been away for much of last week at Hatfield for dear P`s funeral. I had heartwarming meetings up with my dear extended family. Sister J, brother P, and I were together and we appreciated each other`s company. Brothers and sisters have known each other for longer than anyone else: husbands, children, grandchildren and we have so many shared memories.
We had an Experience the day after the funeral, with brother P, who cut his face on the car door in a stressful multi-storey car park. Firstly the manager of Loch Fyne where we went to have lunch, turned out to be a phenomenal first aider. He really went to town on P`s face  It was a work of art with blue sticking plaster. Later, it bled and bled, (due to his being on Warfarin) so P and I spent a few hours in an eerily quiet A and E doing the crossword, until about 1.30 am.    A cheerful nurse, discussing the Grand National,  applied a seaweed dressing to stop the bleeding. It was not a bit like A and E on the telly, no drama at all thank goodness, and no binge drinkers who had been in fights, though it was a Friday night.
B Wiggins has stood up bravely to all these coming and goings though he did have a nasty adventure the previous week when J took him to the IOW and he managed to fall off a sea wall and had to be rescued from the crashing waves by grand son R who jumped in to save him. He now walks on three legs for some of the time but he did not break any bones, he`s just a bit bruised. He was quite happy staying in a strange house and apart from having to be restrained from attacking Auntie P`s collection of teddy bears he behaved  well.
A strange thing occurred while I was away. My expensive varifocal specs disappeared shortly before the funeral. Sadly I was unable to join in with the hymns. I searched high and low, moved furniture, turned out bags, all to no avail,  and had given up, when they mysteriously reappeared by my bed the next morning. Was it an angel? Or did B. Wiggins hide them and then he suddenly thought better of it?
 

and they rubbed him in with camphorated oil......

I have had the flu all week, and have been  huddled under the duvet, watching my temperature rise and fall, swallowing paracetamol and listening to Radio 4     . B.Wiggins has been dispatched to Brighton which he accepts cheerfully. He has latched on to daughter J as a mother substitute and admires Jumble in a respectful way.
I went to the doctor yesterday. I had to go to the next village. It was perishing cold and my temperature was 101.   The Dr listened to my chest and pronounced it as viral and said he couldn`t give me antibiotics and I would just have to `let it run its course` Fair enough but why don`t they have a few other cures up their sleeves?. My mother used to rub my chest with camphorated oil and put eucalyptus on the pillow.
Anyway I feel  a bit better today so will go and fetch the dog back to resume my three walks a day regime.
The day before I got ill I went to the annual party in the Village Hall to welcome new residents to Ditchling. I was promoting the choir and the Quakers. We did pick up two new choir members.   I didn`t cut much ice with the Quakers though.
    

red nose dancing

I can`t believe that almost a week has gone by since red nose Comic Relief Day. Last Friday was, as usual, cold and wet and windy, but a group of us, ranging in age from eight to eighty two (me) did some silly dancing in the pedestrian precinct in the middle of Brighton for about an hour and raised quite a lot of money in a bucket. The idea is: whoever wears the hat, leads the dance and you pass the hat round. It was daughter J`s invention. So you have twenty or so people doing the same odd eccentric movements and dancing around to the accompaniment of some tinny music from a ghetto blaster. We have decided that next time we will have live music. We all enjoyed ourselves immensely. The passers by looked surprised but paid up.
That was last week. This week has continued wet, cold ,windy and muddy. B Wiggins needs a bath but I am waiting for a change in the weather. Also I intend to book him into Twinkletoes, a nearby poodle parlour where he will get a thorough going over: teeth, nails, shampoo and trim, highly  recommended by the lady ijn the Pet Shop. I fear it will cost far more than my hairdo in a barbers shop in Kemptown.
My brothee P, my sister J and I will be together for a few days at the beginning of April for dear sister in Law`P`s funeral. We are all trying to think of some good hymns.

daffodils in the snow

I have just been for an afternoon walk with B.Wiggins in brilliant sunshine and deep snow.   I watched the children tobogganing down Lodge Hill , no school today      The first daffodils are bravely poking through in the hedges.. This morning I walked in a veritable blizzard.  . If I had not got a dog, I would never have ventured out but it was really beautiful.. Wiggins has been given a smart blue jumper which is much admired by the Ditchling villagers.
The bungalow business is taking its course.. It will be a miracle if it goes through   So many hazards. On Thursday, my buyers are having this cottage surveyed. I expect they will find dry rot and subsidence or something. So it may all come to naught.  I have had a ten page document from the solicitor which scares the life out of me.  
I saw a strange film last night called il Quattro Volte. It was full of symbolism.and set in an Italian village. There was no dialogue. The main characters were a herd of goats and an ancient goatherd who collected snails.I am still trying to puzzle it all out.  I loved it though.
There is great sadness in the family as my dear sister in law P is very ill. She is being looked after at home with her family round her, which is a blessing.  I think about her all the time.and I wish I could be there to help.

moving experience

My cottage is up for sale.This involves strenuous tidying up and much use of lavender polish and bleach. I have had lots of viewings (who so far, all say it`s very nice but too small).       I have to be out with B.Wiggins as he would defend his territory with ferocious barking, so I have had even longer walks than usual in the mud and biting winter wind.      It is a big learning curve having a dog. I tend to haunt places which are dog friendly like pet shops,flea markets,certain cafes, garden centres, hardware shops. The National Trust is very un-dog friendly, I`m thinking of writing a protest letter to them.  
I saw a lovely film the other night in the Village Hall: Le Havre. it was about a group of poor people who befriend a young Congolese boy who has escaped from a container ship full of asylum seekers. They help him get to his mother in London and the film was about unconditional kindness, beautifully acted and understated. 
It reminded me of a time a few years ago when I went with a group of friends over on the night ferry from Portsmouth and arrived at Le Havre early in the morning to cycle to Rouen along the Seine. We wandered around with our maps for ages along seedy streets. 
It was our performance of the Museum Tales on Saturday. We had to read our work in the busy museum against a background of tourists chattering and babies in buggies. I don`t know what they made of it. I shall miss the group and our weekly sessions. I have got very fond of the place and the objects in the glass cases are like old friends.

Motorway madness

Daughter J and co have gone to Spain for half term. I was going  to look after their 20 year old cat, but B.Wiggins was too boisterous and also kept eating her food and she got justifiably annoyed. So on Sunday I drove her to London to spend the week with grand daughter M who is living with fellow students in a house in Clapton.This entailed the M25 and the Blackwall Tunnel (such a frightening name) and then weaving my way through Hackney and Bow and Dalston with B Wiggins bouncing around in the front and cat Shirley emitting feeble miaows in the back. Still we made it successfully and had a lovely time with M and a walk by the river Lea. But on the way home, I managed to get on to the M25 going the wrong way and ended up paying the toll at Dartford Crossing twice within twenty minutes.   Surely there is nothing more depressing than driving for several miles the wrong way along a motorway.
I am worrying about all this obesity business in the media. I seem to be getting larger in spite of constantly going for dog walks.. I suppose it is my duty to go on a no bread-no butter- no chocolate regime again.
Also  I think I may have to go back to being a proper vegetarian instead of a half hearted one. They are not going to find bits of horse in nuts and beans.   
.. .

me and my dog.....

I apologise for repeating the `Mud, mud, glorious mud` title in my last blog.. It is because mud is such a dominating feature of my life since the advent of B Wiggins.We both come back from every walk literally plastered with it. Fortunately B.Wiggins is small enough to be dunked in the kitchen sink.  Yesterday we went for the day to the Isle of Wight. This involved: car to station, two trains, boat, and bus,there and back, which were all new experiences for BW   Everyone I sat next to  whipped out their mobile phone and proceeded to show me numerous photos of their pets. I was longing to read the Guardian and do the crossword.
The purpose of my visit was to visit ex husband J who is very poorly and in hospital in Newport, and I met up with two sons and a grandson. I was impressed with the hospital which was cheerful and bustling and clean. No one batted an eyelid when I walked in with the dog,  they just stroked him ( and told me about their dogs)
Being an old person is a full time job. Apart from hospital visiting one`s contemporaries, I am just off to Age Concern this morning to get my hearing aids fixed, then to the library for a replacement bus pass.

Mud, mud glorious mud.....

The sun is shining this morning for the first time for weeks. I`m just back from my early walk with Wiggins, knee deep in mud. Most of the snow has gone, there is just the pathetic remains of a dirty old snowman in the middle of the village green. But three nights ago I was stranded in a blizzard for a couple of hours driving from Brighton to Ditchling. I had none of the things with me that you are supposed to have:spade, torch etc but survived with Wiggins and Radio 4 for company.
The bungalow I looked at last week is a distinct possibility, but I dread the whole process of moving. It is so hazardous. I was lucky when I sold my house in Winchester as my lovely neighbour bought it from me without any pesky agents.
I went to see the film Les Miserables. A mistake. I never like musicals and this one lasted over two and a half hours without a break. The worst thing was close- ups of singers showing their tonsils, teeth and huge pink wet tongues.   There were some incredible scenes which quite took your breath away but it went on too long and it was very sentimental. In fact I find that most things last too long but perhaps that is just a symptom of old age.
I have started re reading George Orwell, brilliant writing. There`s lots of them so it will take me some time. I am just in the middle of 
`Coming Up for Air` .

Museum tales

Just back from a frosty walk with Wiggins.    Ditchling looked pink and beautiful with the sun just coming up over the Beacon. There is a definite improvement in my walking, I no longer look like the old woman on the road signs that say Danger Elderly People. I spoke to a ninety three year old this morning with a fifteen year old dog and she has quite a spring in her step too
I started the Museum Tales writing course yesterday: six weeks every Tuesday we are let loose in the wonderful Brighton Museum to write about the exhibits. They are a lively group and I think I am going to enjoy it.  The only problem is leaving Wiggins who looks at me so piteously when I leave him, but I must learn to be tough.  Fortunately the U3A Reading Aloud group in the Library  that I go to every week, allow him in and the Librarians give him doggy treats.
I saw a sad Korean film at Ditchling Film club called Poetry, about a woman with Alzheimers and a ne`er do well grandson. It has stayed with me for days as good films do but it was disturbing.  . I am going to the panto in Burgess Hill tomorrow which will be an antidote.
I have now abandoned the downstairs loo building project as it seems to involve complicated planning permission etc and I just can`t handle it so perhaps I will have to start thinking about moving again and try to cope with my deep fear of house agents, Oh dear. I am going to look at a bungalow tomorrow.......