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.......