Rosemary for remembrance..

The long warm days of summer stretch out . I love the walks in the woods with B.Wiggins at this time of the year, There are several places near here where you can walk for miles and even get a bit lost.  Though I still miss my bike, dog walking twice a day is a good substitute.
BW has been barking and acting in a hostile manner to the gardeners at Dumbrells Court so I have been in trouble with the Headmaster again. He now has to wear a muzzle while in the grounds   it is made of mesh and looks like a little pig`s snout. BW doesn`t mind.   He just looks puzzled in a muzzle.
He is perfectly docile and well behaved, until he meets men in shorts carrying post bags or gardening implements when he goes ballistic.

I went to see Twelfth Night at Tiger`s primary school.  Apart from the songs and Malvolio`s cross gartering, it bore little relation to the Shakespeare version, but it was joyful and exuberant and I loved it. It made me cry of course, always a sign of a good production. Grand daughter Tiger was Feste and to my prejudiced grandmotherly eyes, the star of the show.

My home is redolent with rosemary. I saw a TV programme about old age and dementia  that suggested that burning rosemary oil in one of those candle things improved the memory. It has been proved apparently.    It smells lovely.

Just about to do my daily drawing now, another aid against decrepitude.   I learned that from the TV programme too as well as from Chris Redell, the children`s laureate.

Summertime, and the livin is easy.....

Back from La Belle France after a lovely week away with brother P.      In spite of dire warnings on radio and TV, there were no problems on Euro tunnel, except a slight delay on the way home. 
It was very quiet in Normandy, hardly any traffic on the motorway or other roads, and the countryside looked stunning.   I love the French roundabouts, bamboo mazes, mountains of pink roses, sculptures, grasses, all different.   It was very hot, but of course it was the same in England. 

We went out and about trying to keep cool, and we sat reading in the beautiful gardens of our gite: poetry and novels.     I enjoyed `The Invention of Wings` by Sue Monk Kidd which is about two sisters battling against slavery in the early 19th century in South Carolina. It is a novel, but based on real people and events.    
P and I love being in France and just wallow in the Frenchiness of the French.  As usual we had fierce games of Scrabble, watched films and enjoyed delicious food and wine, everything always tastes nicer in France. 

B. Wiggins went to daughter J in Brighton.who was also looking after her daughter M`s kitten while she a is away on the Camino de Santiago.There was Tiger`s hamster plus a seagull known as nosy Norah who comes in to eat the dog and cat food. All four were chasing each other round the kitchen and the kitten was definitely top `dog`  B.W. is terrified of her, but he had a happy week there going down to the beach and guarding the clothes while the family went swimming.  He is also pleased to be home for his early morning walks on the downs, and afternoon stumps through the shady woods interspersed with chasing the squirrels here in the garden.

Boiled Eggs and Foxgloves.

I am very pleased that the new Children`s Laureate is Chris Redell as he is an artist as well as a good writer. He recommends that everyone should do a drawing every day, keep a sketchbook handy and some well sharpened pencils.   I have been doing this. It makes you look at things more carefully and it is the process and not the result that is important. So far I have drawn:  some foxgloves, grasses and elderflowers picked on my morning walk with BW and also attempted to draw the squirrels outside my window, difficult as they are never still, and crows, which are easier. Also my breakfast egg and a jar of Marmite. I already do Morning Pages which is a sort of writing exercise when you just write for a couple of pages without taking your pen off the paper or correcting it in any way, a sort of stream of consciousness,and what with the early dog walk, it is quite a busy routine.

I have just finished Patrick Gale`s latest novel A Town called Winter which I got from the wonderful mobile library.  They get me all the new books.  It is loosely based on events in his own family: a great grandfather who mysteriously went off to Canada leaving his family behind.  Like all his books, it is thought provoking, sensitive and moving.  He is such a great story teller. 

I am doing my annual `poetry `project with the Year 2`s . Subjects range from the usual dogs, cats and gerbils to a snall boy saying he wanted to write about `demolition and blowing things up`  Many of them want to write about their tablets and other electronic devices. I am not sure whether they are good or bad, but they are inextricably part of their lives now.

I am getting ready for my trip to France with brother P. We are going on the channel tunnel this year but to the same place in Normandy as last time. I hope we both survive without having to experience a French A and E department but it is always a risk at our advanced ages. At least we will have the advantage of P`s excellent French to see us through.   The thing is, we do not have great expectations, we just love being in France with the good wine, bread and chesse and other delights and we enjoy each other`s company.