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.