Thursday, 10 January 2019
Some enquiries are concern and some are pure nosiness .I know which I prefer but sometimes going over it for whatever reason really doesn't appeal .Increasingly its a case of that was then and this is now .
So I absent myself from the interest .
Hat on , collar up out along the river . Coots call and there's a floating village of seagulls at one point .
The light is beginning to fade . Just before I turn for home I look out along the far reaches of the winding river . I see where I shall walk . Further and further as the year unfurls . It is a thought I hug to myself . It gives me pleasure .
Coming back along the tow path I stop to look up at the bunches of ash keys on the bare branches . They are pleasing shapes and they are indifferent to the unobservant and the admirer alike .They don't want an update or an excuse to bang on about their own alleged ailments .
I like the indifference of ash keys .
Tuesday, 8 January 2019
Before we were overtaken by events I used to buy groceries on the wing . Previously potatoes could easily have been driven a hundred miles before I peeled them .
It's obviously different now, at least for a while . All meals at home . Browsing recipe books . Finding food to savour and recipes that I relish cooking .
Sometimes of course its simpler , something on toast , homemade soup or a cake fresh from the oven . Either way I am looking at who to give my loyalty and cash to .
I like to see what I am buying and to change my mind if a seasonal treat appears so I won't shop on line . Instead I've looked at shops I can walk to with more or less ease . Tesco , Sainsbury , Aldi , Marks and Spencer and Waitrose .
Initial reaction ? Cheap isn't cheap if it turns out to be substandard and you don't eat it and it seems the two shops in the mix that are said to be more expensive often are not .
Practical advise sought then .
Where do you go , why , and what do you recommend from their shelves ?
Monday, 7 January 2019
This is the bleakest time of the year . Cold , could be some snow to come .
The garden , people will say , looks bleak but I know its not .
Just under the earth the first stages of new growth are stirring with the promise of shoots and stems to come .They move gently like a baby rustling in it's cot .
Later when it seems wet as well as bleak the earth is even more deceptive .
Plants are almost ready to push through . They stand in the hall way of their earthy home putting on their hats and coats . Cheerful with chatter and anticipation , they clamour for the door to open and spring to begin .
This I know , for it is faithful and true every year . It is something you can depend on . Fresh beginnings and new growth .
And in our house I hear you ask ?
In our house the Spring will just have to follow us ....... for we have already begun .
Wednesday, 19 December 2018
So we went through the countryside to do a bit of countrified shopping .
The saxophonist stood outside the girlie beauty shop while I went in and then we started to walk down to the stationers .He normally strides ahead but lagged behind . Stopped . Hit the deck . Had a heart attack . I asked the policewoman who arrived at the same time as the air ambulance " on a scale of one to ten how serious is this ? ". "Ten " she said .
So they put in a stent , took him to intensive care and I played a waiting game for two weeks . Seizures , pipes , wires , monitors , machines ,him trying to pull the wires out and then a conference with the consultants . "Your husband will never regain consciousness ". "He will spend the rest of his life in a specialised care home" he said .
He saw my face ."Your husband is brain dead " he said .
They transferred him to another hospital and it continued for another two weeks .
One day I went into the unit to sit by his bed as usual and sitting up in bed was the saxophonist . Personality , faculties , intelligence , memory all firing on all cylinders . I talked with him and held him . I left the ward . I sobbed and then I did a tap dance in the lift .
He has been home a week now . He is building strength through good food and increasing walks .
I don't know what you feel about this year . I don't know what you feel about Christmas BUT I can give you this . Miracles do happen , they are real and I know this for a fact . Happy Christmas .
Saturday, 4 August 2018
The heat is making the fruit drop early .
Little green apples litter the lanes - and lots of pigeons .
The birds have avian flu I think . They sit warm and snug in two's and three's in the road . Swerve to avoid them and they will often seem to make the effort to outsmart you and get under the wheels .
So the lanes are dotted with smashed apples and pigeons .Little clouds of soft downy feathers tell you which it is .
I go to the fridge with the cool boxes and pack everything left from other picnics .
Out by the deserted picnic tables I throw down the cloth and get it all on the table . I have packed a couple of baguettes too. When it's all out it looks a sumptuous spread . I am rather surprised .People strolling past look enviously at the brie , celery serrano , chorizo , spring onions etc .One or two even try to start up a conversation to get an invite to sit down ......
When we are done we sit a long while smoking , sipping good coffee and watching the waves .I pick up a radish from the table and sling it over the sea wall just to hear the plop as it hits the water .
Minutes pass and I spot a gull with a red clown's nose .The radish has drifted to where he is . He has speared it with his beak . Eventually he gets it off and edges it into his mouth . Suddenly he has a huge adam's apple and them he swallows it whole .
Sunday, 22 July 2018
No snow could empty the roads , streets and lanes like this heat .Six weeks of being baked awake .
Bewildered people , dozy with the day , emerge , as the sun sinks , to shop . They buy what look like very random selections .
Late in the evening we wander in the relative cool to the pub . In the dark people move stealthily like cats . All these dim figures - like ghosts .
We drive ,windows down, and the Saxophonist takes a wrong turning .
I suggest we keep going . Half way through the next village is a green turning and my instinct says take it .
It is a green tunnel , dim and shadowy .There is a dead end and I climb out .I peer into the gloom and there's a pale chink further on .Is it sky or is it water ? I don't know but I grab the picnic from the boot and stride off ahead .
I am a small pale figure amongst the dark trees
Suddenly the small figure squeals and sprints .
There is a wide wide water , a strip of beach and a heady mix of salt and seaweed in the air .
A wrong turning and intuition . Don't these often make for the best discoveries .
Sunday, 15 July 2018
This heat. You feel bleached to the bone .
I can't remember the last time I put the oven on . Never mind , there I am out on the shore line again .
There's the odd yacht , sometimes a seagull and me .
My hair has gone white blond , my skin is permanently salty and there is sand in every pair of shoes I own .
I have given up on hair brushes . makeup and , come to that , underwear. Robinson Crusoe would disown me .
I'm sure it can't be right but it feels as if we live on cold crisp apples and cigarettes .
At night we drink cold cider and watch the pipistrelles swerve as the seagulls do in the day .