In the bleak mid winter.

It is so long since I last wrote my blog. I tried and tried when I was away in Germany last week, but sister J`s Apple Mac just would not let me in. I have been flying about and driving long distances up and down mororways in the most appalling weather for the past two weeks and I am very surprised that I am still alive. The plane from Stansted went at 7am so I had to leave in the middle of the night, and at 4am the place was packed, I had to sit on the stone cold floor and had great difficulty standing up again. Anyway I had a wonderful time, sister J and I never run out of things to talk about and when we were not talking I was reading, watching films, or eating delicious meals cooked by her. Then I went to Newcastle, through a blizzard and waited for my great grandchild to be born, but he has still not appeared and I have now driven home through another blizzard. Since then it has been a sea of wrapping paper (though this has now become newspaper which I have discovered looks quite nice) making mince pies, and writing lists.
I went to an amazing concert at The Sage in N`castle with Evelyn Glennie, the stone deaf percussionist playing some totally incomprehensible music by James Mcmillan, but her energy and personality just moved me to tears.
I am off to Brighton tomorrow for Christmas, another risky journey I expect, but I can`t wait.

marching along

I have just done a new small book of poems to give to friends and family for Christmas, and now I am worried that people may think it is a slightly mad thing to do. it is just that I have all these bits of paper in folders and on my computer and I feel I want to communicate something. The poems are mostly about old age and life in the Meeting House.
I continually make lists of all the things I must do before Christmas and the cards I must send, but do not actually do any of these things. I meant to do a lot last night, but there was a whole evening of Alan Bennett plays and monologues on TV which were so good. How I love that man, he is so honest and funny.
Yesterday it was The Wave, a demo in London about the Climate Change conference in Copenhagen next week. We had a rally here at the Meeting House, about 130 people, and we marched through the streets of Winchester with blue balloons and scarves, banners,and there was a splendid band. Most went on to London, but my demo days are sadly over with my arthritic feet to contend with, but it was a heartening occasion.

I am becoming a connoisseur of the eightieth birthday(or Golden Wedding) lunch. It is a wonderful stage of life, this, I go to beautiful parties and gaze round the room at old friends with their children, and grandchildren and at the same time I am fed with delicious food. A lovely one last Saturday in the Cotswolds, but the journeys there and back were hazardous on the M4 in the wind and rain, though I did see a perfect rainbow on the way there.
In the evening I went to a Quiz in the Parish Room next door. Why, I wonder, is it so satisfying to know the answer to a totally useless question when others do not? The supper there was good too.
Last week I went to see Bright Star, a film on the life of John Keats. I felt that it did not make JK quite lovable enough, he looked a bit grubby and seedy, but I loved it, and am still processing it in my mind.
Poor grand daughter Grace`s broken arm is an ongoing saga. She is on her fourth plaster (white red, purple etc She has taken at least one GSCE mock having been starved as her pinning operation has been planned for the afternoon. The docs keep changing their minds. What a palaver. She does not want to do any more horse riding. I am thankful.
I am off to Godfrey Heaven`s humanist funeral in a minute driving some elderly Quakes. He was a splendid ninety five year old with a great zest for life and won a poetry prize last year.

wild west winds

I have done a lot of driving lately through gales and torrential rain, firstly down to Cornwall with (almost ) blind friend B, where I spent a few blissful days of R and R mostly sitting by the fire reading or just gazing out at the lovely Fal estuary as it was too wet and muddy for much walking with the dog. Then I whizzed off to Brighton for a night, and the next day to yet another eightieth birthday party in the New Forest. I took three nonagenarians, so I felt quite young and skittish.
I had a gloomy Saturday morning doing the Fire Risk Assessment, and felt that the house was going to burst into flames at any moment, what with the bedding under the stairs, the music cupboard on the landing and the cloth around the door handle to prevent it banging. So I have spent most of the day dealing with these fearful hazards.. Also we are going to terrify all the Quakers and residents by having a few fire drills on Sunday mornings.
I am planning some Christmas parties, and family get togethers, I love making lists and plans.

no sun, no shine, November.

November here with deluging rain, and gales, but there was a good turn out of Quakers this morning, and a lively Meeting with Friends bobbing up right left and centre with ministry. There is the business Meeting after Meeting on the first Sunday of the month followed by lunch for anyone who wants to stay, so it is a busy day for me, but I have had a good read of the Observer this afternoon, before tackling the daily monumental task of raking up leaves. I look at the thousands of leaves still up there on the magnolia tree and the huge beech and my heart sinks.
Then I booked up a pre Christmas flight on Ryanair to stay with sister J, which I always find a very stressful process (have I booked the right day, time, month, is the plane going to crash, should I have booked another day ?)
Friday in Brighton was an anxious day as grand daughter G was thrown from a horse on a country path and broke her arm quite badly. J and D were at work so I went in the ambulance with her and our experience at A and E was not good to say the least. J said it was like something out of Dickens. One harassed nurse seemed to be the only one there and she said she had sixty patients to look after, so we came pretty far down the list. In the evening when we were all finally at home, J said she just felt thankfulness, it could have been so much worse.We don`t feel so keen on hose riding any more, think they will give it a miss for a while.

babies and bicycles

I looked after a five week old baby last night. His mother was helping to run a group here. He started to cry and got himself into a state, but I was glad to find that I hadn`t lost the knack of quietening babies with a sort of continuous vigorous up and down motion. He slept like a lamb on my lap for an hour or so, but I was unable to move. He was adorable and gave one or two fleeting smiles.
I had a spectacular fall from my bike this morning on my way back from a swim. I skidded on the wet, and flew across the road and landed in a heap with the bike on top. I lay there thinking this is it: broken hip, A and E, operations, zimmer frame, walking sticks, the lot. To my surprise, I jumped up unscathed and cycled home.
We played some music this afternoon, bit of Telemann, with son T, 94 year old V, two other good friends, and it probably sounded dire but we enjoyed it. Perhaps I will start practising my cello again.

My life here is a series of interruptions. I had just settled down to doing a spot of gardening when an old man wanders in at the gate (he tells me he is 90 tomorrow) and says he cannot remember where he has parked his car. After a glass of water and a sit down, he still has no idea, so I get on my bike and cycle round Winchester for half an hour and eventually find it in a remote street. Then I get him into my car, with difficulty, and take him there, and watch him drive off uncertainly. At the same time I load up wih all the garden rubbish for the dump. But I pick up a few choice items of china from the shed round the back for a trifling sum so it wasn`t a wasted journey. I will so miss our dump when I leave Winchester!
Today we have the embroiderers here for a workshop. I love to see them all sitting the big room, stitching away quietly, so intent. I had meant to spend the day in London, but the trains are all up the creek, so it will be gardening again, and perhaps a bonfire. Tonight I am going to an art event in the Old Laundry. I am interested to see how it has been transformed. Both daughters did gruelling stints working there when they were teenagers, coming home all steamy and limp.
(The old man got home safely, his equally old wife rang up to thank us)