Jaunt Over

What a good job we weren’t flying. I managed to get everything into one small push case and just as we were leaving a strange buzzing noise started which seemed to emanate from the case. It was quite relentless and feeling strangely nervous I started to unpack. Visions of being asked:

‘Did you pack your suit-case yourself Madam?’ It seemed to be coming from the innermost depths – a separate waterproof zipped compartment and throwing caution to the winds I unzipped it. There was my electric toothbrush whizzing its little head off.

The Farthings Hotel was warm and welcoming and we had the lovely Garden room we had previously but as the weather continued to be foul we didn’t visit the animals or the garden. The evening passed fairly quickly with drinks and dinner – it always surprises me how we never seem to run out of things to talk about. I heard of one couple who on the rare occasions they ate out together used to recite nursery rhymes to each other so that it wasn‘t obvious they had nothing to say to each other.

By the time we had breakfast the next day it was still quite early and neither of us felt like hanging around in thundery weather until the film at 2.30 so we cut our losses and called at a nearby complex where I bought a Hetty – companion for our Henry so that we have an upstairs and downstairs, decent vacuum. Nearer home we called for a coffee at the Garden Centre and I bought MTL’s Christmas present – a forest green fleece which I managed to persuade him to try on and it looked great.

Back home the house is still full of flowers – such a contrast to the miserable greyness outdoors. Birthday cards, anniversary cards and now Christmas cards have started to arrive. As Joyce my old cleaner used to say:

‘Ne’er mind! Can’t be ‘elped! Be a’right!’

Christmas has come to the Garden Centre

Late Start


The early sun didn’t fool me for a moment and sure enough the Heavens opened. We had already decided to put shopping on the back burner. Christmas is more or less sorted and personal shopping seems inappropriate just now. So a simple lunch then we’re off to Hatch Beauchamp.


This made me laugh: Roy Hudd – the physical embodiment of old Music Hall was talking on the radio about his memoirs – forget the celebrity tripe – this will have a lifetime of laughter and tears between its covers. He was an evacuee and used to love getting letters from his mother who – sadly - suffered from depression. When winter came she sent him a parcel containing his winter overcoat. She wrote that because of the expense of postage she had cut off the buttons. And the buttons were in the left hand pocket.


The sad part was that Roy was mostly brought up by his Gran and his mother committed suicide. No-one told Roy and she was never mentioned until one day his Gran said:
‘Your mother’s dead. And there isn’t a Father Christmas.’


His Gran used to say he was like a fart in a colander he was so lively and his wife
(who I believe is Lancastrian) said he must use that as the title. And he has.
Back soon.

November 23rd 1979

We deliberately made it a low key affair. My parents drove over from Lancashire and my sister arrived from the States. One of my sons and his girl friend came and one of MTL’s children with her husband; it took some of them a little longer to come to terms with our getting married. It was chilly but bright and as we left the house I nearly lost my nerve - all the stress of the last few months caught up with me and someone took a photo of the bride to be - head down, being coaxed along the path by MTL and my mother.


We drove to the Registry office in Macclesfield and parking was a problem; every time we found a space to back into Dad drove up close behind so we couldn’t reverse. I wasn’t keen on the idea of being married in a Registry Office and when I saw we were to be married by a woman – in a trouser suit my discomfiture was complete.


When we were all assembled in the room I looked at MRL’s white strained face and pulled myself together. I looked at the ones I loved and began to relax and holding tightly onto MTL’s hand gave myself permission to stop worrying about everybody else and concentrate on the two of us – at last – being together as man and wife.


Once the ceremony was over everybody relaxed and there were lots of hugs and a few tears. MTL had persuaded me it would be a good idea to have lunch at home (he’s made up for it since) but everybody helped and by mid afternoon we left them to it and escaped to our favourite Lake District for a few days. We decided however short or long our time together we weren’t going to waste any of it. And I don’t think we have.

Churchill, Romola and Stephen.


Remember Romola Garai from the latest Emma and the young girl in Atonement? She has just made a film with Stephen Poliakoff – a mystery thriller – Glorious 39 which promises to be next in line of exciting British films released in the last year. A fan, already I predict Romola will be the next Keira Knightley. Interestingly she has had no formal dramatic training.


A coincidence is that the film is set in pre- war Britain in 1939 and Churchill was mentioned as Romola and Stephen were interviewed by Andrew Marr. Yesterday – I was researching Churchill’s speeches – we always knew he was in two minds about our ‘noble allies‘ the Russians, but he actually said in 1939:-


I cannot forecast to you the action of Russia. It is a riddle wrapped in mystery inside an enigma


The bridges in Cumbria were always special to MTL and me after a momentous walking holiday in 1949. Today they are all closed until they have been checked for safety and:

Still falls the Rain
Dark as the world of man,
Black as our loss
Blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails
Upon the Cross

Edith Sitwell 1887-1964

All’s Quiet on the Western Front…

..so it seems like a good time to get stuck into revising my MS. I’m cheered to have someone - whose opinion I respect and who I know will be honest with me - agree to vet my work as it progresses. If you notice a wealth of adjectives, adverbs, clichés and general bad habits spilling over into the blog it’s because I’m fine–tooth combing the book and they’ve got to go somewhere.


It isn’t quiet everywhere in blog land-I came across a blog the other day with something like 2000 followers. The film I wanted to see as an anniversary treat is not on in our nearest complex but ‘An Education ‘ is and it sounds interesting; Lynn barber’s teen- age memories of being dazzled by an older man – and who wasn’t? Our day is really Monday but we have had so many celebrations on a November Monday when restaurants are often deserted or indeed closed so we are having it on Wednesday.


It is another wet, wet miserable day here and my heart goes out to the people in Cumbria and Scotland who are suffering floods and the resulting hardship. A brave policeman lost his life guarding a bridge and trying to prevent people crossing. The bridge gave way and he was swept to his death.

Better than a slap in the belly with a wet fish!