earthquake poetry

I have just come back from a day in London with good friend M, who is an expert at organising outings:train times, bus routes, vouchers for restaurants, reading matter for trains, the lot. We went to a a marathon poetry reading at Central Hall Westminster in aid of the Haiti Earthquake Appeal ,organised by our very own Poet Laureate, Carol Anne Duffy. It started off with no less than the PM, Gordon himself in casual open neck shirt and baggy trousers, his wife beside him, giving a nice speech in praise of poetry (and C.A.D whom he kissed warmly) I think there were about 16 poets, maybe more, and apart from the fact that many were inaudible until we moved to the second row from the front after the interval, it was a lovely occasion and we both loved it.
I am going to try to go to London more often, what with the free bus pass and greatly improved walking after the miraculous horse treatment, I don`t feel at all weary after my day out.

My knee is miraculously cured by the horse physiotherapist! She is starting on my wonky ankle now, so perhaps I can gradually get her to work through my whole body. I am back to swimming and cycling to my great relief.
Had a busy day yesterday as it was the start of the Quinquennial Survey of the Meeting House and also the annual inspection of resident`s rooms The QS is being done by two architects, but the other is me with another Quake. The residents got in right old panic, dashing up and down stairs with hoovers. They all have their rooms absolutely stuffed full and it is interesting to see the different styles of decor. I had a good haul of missing china and cutlery: twelve dinner plates six bowls and too many glasses and mugs to count.
I went to the theatre to see James Fox being Anthony Trollope, acting out excerpts from The Warden and Chronicles of Barset. he was very good and I did not fall asleep once. Interesting that Trollope wrote his novels on the train with a pencil as he was travelling around on his job with the Post Office.

going for gold with my knee

My family never cease to surprise me. Today fifty year old son, T announced that he has taken up knitting and is making a scarf for little Arthur, my new great grandchild, and his great nephew. He has recently got keen on cooking especially jam, chutney and bread. What next I wonder?
I have started seeing a physiotherapist for my bad knee. I discovered that she treats the horses for the Olympic eventing team as well as the riders, so I feel I am in safe hands. I have torn some sort of ligament. Also the clutch has gone in my car so I am expecting the washing machine to break down any day now as these things always go in threes.
I look at the two cats curled up so contentedly on top of the Aga and think Oh the poor things they have no idea of the terrible disruption in their lives when they go to Ditchling. I seem to remember from my counselling days that this is called transference. In fact I do feel quite excited at the thought of an After Life from the Meeting House. It is just the trauma of packing up and saying goodbye to so many lovely old friends that I find daunting.

Blog on, blog on ...

I feel a moral obligation to continue this blog after a positive avalanche of emails from people that I never dreamt read it regularly including a lovely bloke from the Czech Republic who stayed at the Meeting House years ago and likes to `know what is going on here`
On a personal level, my right knee has suddenly seized up for no apparent reason and I resorted to using a walking stick this morning which immediately made me feel ancient and decrepit like those road signs that say Beware of Elderly People. So perhaps it is a good thing that I am shortly to retire, though footballers and Olympic athletes get bad knees from time to time.
It is sunny today and the garden looks unnaturally green after all the whiteness. Lots of people have come to Meeting and everything is back to normal after the chaos of the snowy weather. I`ve a busy week ahead in the house with some catering for two groups, so I am about to start my favourite job: making Lists of Things to Do.
I am reading The Children`s Book by AS Byatt and it is a winner, can`t put it down. I read it half the night.

dumplings in the stew

I made a stew with dumplings, for the residents tonight and it went down a treat. I am trying to think of good things about the cold weather, and one is it seems acceptable to eat old fashioned fattening food. We have had proper oat porridge for breakfast for the last week with cream and brown sugar. D remembered she had a tiny souvenir bottle of malt whiskey from a visit to a distillery many years ago, so we solemnly added a tot to our porridge bowls. Whiskey for breakfast in a Quaker Meeting House, how shocking ! But it is OK because of sub zero temperatures. J says it is even worse in Brighton and the chidren have not been at school for days and days. When will it all end?
We had our book group planning meeting last night, it is always very exciting to have the prospect of 10 or more books to read monthly for the year though I will have left alas mid year, but I can read them anyway. The good thing about book groups is that you get to read things you would never choose yourself and I often so enjoy them (but not always)

Strange days, with few groups turning up and the quietness everywhere that comes with snow. It has not snowed again however in spite of dire daily warnings of impending blizzards, I am quite disappointed. I crunch my way across the the front lawn to get my car out to drive a resident to work as she is nervous about falling over on the ice rink that is Colebrook Street. On the way back I skid and nearly bump into a wall, so I decide to stay indoors and do boring admin jobs at my desk in the warm by the aga. But I feel lazy and unfit with no early morning swimming or cycling. One group that did come this morning was a new Pilates class and the meeting room was filled with young women lying on the floor with their legs in the air. I often marvel at the range of activities that go on in that room: Quaker silence, Buddhist chanting,yoga, circle dancing, earnest discussions, children playing, to mention a few.
I lit a fire for meeting for worship yesterday and someone spoke of the `ministry of the fire crackling` which is an interesting concept.

the more it snows, tiddlypom.

I had begun to think I would stop this blog, but due to popular request (well anyway , my brother P`s ) I have decided to resume. There has been a lot of weather about lately and life is very disrupted. Most of the groups this week have cancelled, including the Reformed Jewish Group, and Spiritual Healing, and countless others, but the Alcoholics, Narcotics and Gamblers Anonymous are still braving the elements. We residents are huddled indoors playing Scrabble nightly and the cats are sitting nearer or actually on top of the Aga, (we have Shirley from Brighton still here from the Christmas hols)
The garden looks truly beautiful today but the street is like an ice rink, and it is too cold outside to raise any enthusiasm for making snowmen. so I am trying make my desk more efficient for my successor in April, hopeless really as I have never been one for keeping paperwork in order.
The job has been advertiesed in The Friend and there have been many applicants. I just hope they will appoint someone who will keep the Aga top free of crumbs.
I am very gratified that the poetry book that I felt so anxious about is selling briskly in aid of Emmausn Winchester so it was worth doing after all. Less trouble than organising Cream Teas and Indulgent Breakfasts