Victoria Wood, such sad news.

I am very sad about Victoria Wood`s death. Such brilliant writing and observation, and I loved her songs and ebullient piano playing. She was always down to earth and warm hearted as well as being hilariously funny.  I was interested to read in the Guardian obit that she attended Quaker Meeting, (along with my other heroine, Judy Dench)     There was a wonderful tribute to her on telly last night, which included her speaking movingly about her life and work.

Another long programme followed which was all about the Queen on her ninetieth birthday. I get a bit fed up with all the oft repeated pictures of her waving regally from gilded coaches and walking stiffly about wearing those absurd hats, so it was nice to see new pics of her looking motherly and happy with her children.   I so admire the way she still walks around wearing high heeled shoes, springing nimbly up and down steps without a stick and even walks backwards when laying wreaths,  as well as being interminably on her feet shaking hands. I can`t do any of those things and I am four years younger.    I do wish everyone would stop referring to her as Majesty, even her son for Goodness Sake, it seems such a silly word.

I have been having car problems. It goes along perfectly well and then just stops in inappropriate places like Ditchling High Street in the rush hour or on top of Ditchling Beacon on a bend in the road. It starts up again after about five minutes. The garage obviously think I am a barmy, incompetent driver. It is going in for it`s MOT and service today and I dread them saying that there is nothing wrong and I will get stuck again. Or equally nasty will be if they say it is going to cost squillions of pounds to repair it.     I so rely on having a car here in Ditchling as there are so few buses and none that can get me to Brighton.  
I am one of the judges for a yearly writing award in memory of daughter Julia. I have to make a short list of four from a long list of thirty two. I am so impressed by the high standard of all of them. It is not a piece of writing as such, it is giving the reasons for needing  the money to travel for the purpose of their work.  Reading the applications make you want to give the money to all of them. But there are three other judges, all better qualified than I am to choose, so together we must make a decision.There will be a performance of Julia`s poetry and maybe a play at the prize giving at Live theatre in Newcastle on June 5th.

A Taste of Honey

I have been staying with old friend J in Limpley Stoke while her live -in carer was away. She is soon to move from her large beautiful house and garden into a small retirement flat, so I enjoyed the wonderful views of the Avon Valley for the last time.   B.Wiggins and I had some splendid early morning walks (same old mud, alas, as in Sussex)  On one of the footpaths I came to a particularly steep, slippery muddy bit and was wondering how I was going to manage it, when another dog-walker came up behind me and said `Would you like an arm?` I accepted gratefully.   I reflected on random acts of kindness and how good they are.  Another was when I left to go home, I discovered that J`s helper had secretly put two delicious home made cheese scones in my car for the journey !
While I was there I visited an old Winchester friend V, who now lives in Bradford on Avon, nearby. She is now ninety and very sprightly. She attributes her health and mobility to swallowing cider vinegar with runny honey every day, and urged me to do the same.      I have been doing so for the last week so I expect that soon I will be leaping over stiles and bounding up and down the hills.

Daughter J and family came home for Ghana on Friday and in spite of insect bites, tummy upsets, extreme heat, dodgy toilets, they looked surprisingly fit and well and in good spirits. They loved the friendly people and were glad of the whole experience but realise what comfortable lives we lead here in England. And it was lovely for them to spend time with daughter M  who is there for some months working for a charity in Komasi.     

I saw a tragic film in the Village Hall the other night called Two Lives, about poor little Norwegian babies which were taken away from their mothers and brought up in Germany, and then their struggle to be re united years later.  It was a good film and very exciting but so sad, it has haunted me ever since.  

Travels With My Dog

I am just back from The North, where I saw sixteen members of my family and stayed in three lovely cosy homes, and was fed delicious food and wonderfully looked after.   B.Wiggins enjoyed it all too, with interesting walks in the Derwent Valley, Allendale and Heaton Park in Newcastle. He was photographed on phones countless times on the trains there and back and helped people eat their packed lunches and had a good time, though he was very pleased to get home too.
I loved being with the four great grand boys and the two great grand nieces and they all seem to me to be inordinately clever and advances, but surely this is a great grand mother`s prerogative.
I saw a French film,Marguerite, about a rich tone deaf opera singer, which was excellent, read Rebecca Front`s book `Curious` after hearing it discussed on Radio 4, which is funny and wise, and watched the end of The Night Manager which was satisfyingly gruesome.   Now I am comfortably back in bungalow land which seems very quiet after all my gallivanting about. 
Daughter J e mails from Ghana to say they are hot, itchy from insect bites, and a bit queasy after unfamiliar food but otherwise OK  I am feeling  anxious about them, and will be glad when they are safely home.