BEST OF TIMES

BEST OF TIMES…

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity . . . Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities.

At last we were home and it was really special having Jamie there with me.  Mum and Dad were very sympathetic about the loss of his grandfather and marvelled at all we had accomplished on our holiday.  I told them that if they hadn’t dragged me up the mountains when I was knee high to a grasshopper I wouldn’t have been up to it.  When Maddie appeared I told them that I was going to finish with Andrew.  We walked Maddie back to the aunts, and on the way back I phoned Andrew.  I told him I was back and would get in touch once I knew my off-duty and arrange to meet.  I had to tell him in person but I was dreading it.
Back home we had a lovely chat with Mum and Dad and then, exhausted went to bed – I in the room I shared with Gran (she was in the States) and Jamie who was in Evan’s room (he was on holiday.)  Next morning I saw my parents off on holiday, made breakfast and took Jamie up a cup of tea.  Jamie then went shopping and to have a hair cut.  Alas I had forgotten about Wakes Week and all the shops were closed and the Valley was earning its name – The Valley of Death.
Jamie geared for climbing and hostels was looking decidedly scruffy – especially in the trouser department so I purloined a pair of Evan’ s trousers – beautifully pressed – Mum was an excellent valet – and then he looked presentable if rakish.  The only time my sweet-tempered brother ever got angry with me was when he discovered what I had done.  We went to the Aunts for tea and came back with Maddie, our chaperone and her baby.  I enjoyed bathing and feeding the baby then Jamie and I went to the flicks – at least they were still open.  We walked back over the tops and Maddie had gone to bed.  Alone at last.  Mum had left a wimbry pie (a sort of blueberry grown wild on the moors) so we demolished it and talked and spooned and looked at the stars.
During the weekend we were often alone together late at night and as we got more passionate Jamie said that he respected the fact that we were in my father’s house and would not betray that trust.  I just wished I had a prettier petticoat than my mother’s which as too big for me and I had to knot the straps.  All I felt was a delicious, warm, oozy feeling.
The next day I took Jamie to a farm we used to stay at in the Ribble Valley.  They had known me since I was a child and I was proud to show off Jamie whilst Mrs Walker gave him the once over.  Always a bit unnerving as her eyes looked in different directions, but he passed muster and we were given a splendid lunch.
When we got home Maddie had been joined by Paul who had returned from down south.  I wondered how he would behave as originally it was he who stopped me going to the Commem Ball with Jamie.  However they seemed to get on – there was a lot of bonhomie and I cooked tomato omelettes for all.  Sometime over the weekend we went to look at the Unitarian Church where Maddie had been married.  That night we stayed up almost till dawn – our last night.  It was time to return to hospital. Get back to work and tell Andrew I couldn’t see him anymore.

PROBLEM

I have my next post on Word and for some reason can't publish it. I am doing this from dash board as an experiment.

PAST IMPERFECT"It's the dog's bollocks!"

Ivan

WITH 'THE CHILDREN' OFF THEIR HANDS MUM AND DAD WERE FREE AS BIRDS AND GRADUATED TO A SMALL CAR 
MUM IN HER ELEMENT 'ISN'T NATURE WONDERFUL' WAS ONE OF OUR CATCH PHRASES 
DAD WITH NEW BABY  

MUM AND DAD ON HOLIDAY - MUM DID THE PENNINE WAY TWICE 
MUM AND DAD RIGHT CENTRE 
ASHNESS BRIDGE NEAR KESWICK  

SLOTH

SLOTH…

Sloth is waiting until the summer is almost over before recommissioning the fountain after its winter hibernation swaddled in various layers of plastic covers.  The object being to protect it from frost (which we rarely have) and prevent, rain, leaves and funny looking worm things sullying its inside.

I still haven’t found a satisfactory solution to this problem because every year when all the string and plastic is removed the fountain is full of dirty water, leaves and funny worm like things.  Hence the delay in tackling it.  And surely there is an easier way of getting rid of the water without scooping it out with a plastic jug?

One of my friends – when he first saw it declared I had ideas above my station.  And why not?  Imagine if I had listened to the house agent when we were buying our first house in the fifties when he said we would never be able to afford a house with a garage so why bother looking.  Just you wait, I thought.

The point about the fountain is that my ideal house would have a stream running through it.  Unfortunately the idea brings MTL out in a cold sweat.  The garden is my chapel, retreat, haven and the sound of running water was what I yearned for.  I had a windfall and MTL said,
‘If you are convinced that’s what you want be sure to get one that you can hear wherever you sit.’
  So I did.  And the lion’s have such wise kindly faces.  Shame the photo doesn’t show the water clearly.  It spouts from four orifices and spill over form the top.  Nice!

MY HAVEN