Getting going again

 

This is a sluggish time of year and after the break I find it difficult to do anything other than necessary chores.  The end of my grieving year – January 27^th seems to be clouding the issue.  Our French son wanted to join me then but I didn’t want to waste his visit on a sad time so he’s coming a few days later.  It has always been a landmark as in ‘Don’t make any serious decision until the year is up’ and apart from getting rid of the car, I haven’t.  And by golly was that a relief?

 

Christmas Eve I got the breath taking news that a dear old pal – George – had been knocked down by a car just by his home and didn’t regain consciousness.  He and I were born within days of each other and when I discovered this - many years ago, I completely ignored the rather serious persona he presented to the world and we became firm chums – inclined to giggle, especially on stage.  We have kept up a correspondence in spite of the fact that George’s copper plate hand writing is very difficult to read and I had to resort to typing in order to be able to read my own.

 

I had just written a long spiel – which I’m told he received but he usually waited until he was in the Welsh cottage to reply.  I’m so glad he met Alastair and they liked each other and also glad – when I didn’t see an opening door whilst driving - that I made the decision to stop.  It is heart breaking for his family but – like Alastair he was spared a long drawn out end.

 

On the 27th I plan to try to play some camcorder films I made in Scotland and Canada which I haven’t seen in ages – in the hope that I can hear his voice again.  My B.I.L. in the States still has his late wife’s voice on the answering machine.  I wish I’d thought of that but it would have been difficult to get him to do it.

 

Christmas went by in a flash with the Wiltshire family coming with a car full of food on Christmas Eve.  On Christmas Day I was banished from the kitchen and told to play with my computer, then we had a bracing sunny walk, champers and then the best turkey dinner I’ve had for ages.  Full marks!  Boxing Day was more of the same and after they left – the next day having got rid of all my rubbish- bless’em - there was just time to regroup and pack for a New Year visit to the Hertfordshire family- complete with Alice and Tom.

 

The journey was interesting:  my favourite taxi to Taunton and then Nat; Express to Victoria which I hadn’t done for years.  I find boarding a train with luggage and trying to find one’s seat daunting.  On the bus they take care of your luggage and I don’t mind just sitting for a few hours.  However there were two men sitting behind me, one of whom sounded completely off his head with either drink or drugs and the other not far behind.  The all too audible conversation was just appalling and weirdly – like something out of 39 steps - I kept hearing a shrill whistling of just five notes.
You had to be there.  Don’t write buses off- I shan’t.  On the way back the driver made a big point of saying the police would be involved if there was any alcohol on board.

 

I had already determined to sit nearer to the driver on the way home and discovered that the two front seats – with a fantastic view, can be booked.  I had a charming widower as companion on the way home; he had been an evacuee in the war and was a year younger so we had lots to talk about.  His grand-daughter – aged 17 played football for Watford Ladies and had been spotted by an American team and (I think I remembered correctly) was playing and training with a team in North Carolina, coming home twice a year.  The drivers are very skilful; there had been a bad accident on the M4 and we had to come off and divert but were only 10 minutes late in Taunton.

They ask you to comment on line and I suggested they could be more vigilant re alcohol.  You may not believe me but I swear it is true -on the return journey I did – just once, hear those same piercing five notes.

 

There had been a lot of catching up to do since I got back and I was tempted to miss the Bereavement Group on Tuesday.  So glad I didn’t – Joy was there and two of the members really seemed to have turned the corner in their grief which is heartening for us all.  V gave us an exercise where we were asked to draw the mask we put on our faces to present to the world and card and crayons were provided.  This flummoxed some and I noticed that Chris (M) had managed to cover his nose and the side of his face with bright pink crayon. I found myself regressing fifty odd years - asked him for his handkerchief – remembered not to spit myself but got him to and wiped him clean.

This caused much hilarity but Chris was as good as new apart from flattened hair where my vice like grip had been.

 

I forgot to say I had a super time with the Hertfords – lovely to catch up with the grand-children and old Buster- the ancient Staffie recognised me and played his game of ‘Let’s trip Grandma up’.

 Would you like another coffee?