O-My-Godspell

We had a truly exhilerating evening on Saturday when Kim and Martin so kindly treated us all to a family outing to see Encore Youth Theatre's production of 'Godspell' at the Theatre Royal in Winchester.

Right from the very start the packed audience were totally revved up to enjoy every moment.  It being the Last Night, the theatre was filled to capacity with what must surely have been schoolfriends, parents, and grandparents, who had all come to cheer on their friends and relatives.  After every number there was ear-splitting applause, whistling, and yelling.  The whole atmosphere was at such high voltage it was impossible not to get caught up in all the excitement, and be really amazed by the astonishingly talented and energetic teenagers.

Of course for us, and I'm sure many others, Vicki was the real star of the show.  She can sing, dance, and act with such flair - she gave us such a great evening!  Well done Vicki - you warmed the cockles of your Grandparents' hearts.

I'm sure Martin will be producing great photos of this super occasion - the only ones we have of a very happy and memorable weekend were taken next day during a most enjoyable meander through Winschester's history, with dear Rosie as our very capable and imaginative guide.

Thank you ALL for everything! xxxxx

Be My Valentine .......

Valentines Day started brightly , even though we hadn’t got to bed till after 2a.m. having had Mum here for a visit to the garden centre, her favourite meal, and cards till after midnight (oh that I might be as hale and enthusiastic as she at 93!). We had planned a breakfast of scrambled eggs and smoked salmon (an 80p pack of trimmings) with Bucks Fizz (on offer from Tesco), and just before I served this great luxury, I popped down the garden to my studio to pick up my Valentine card and present for John.


To my utter dismay, as I reached the studio verandah I saw old Butch, my dear old horsey buddy, lying down in the paddock just a little way along from my window, his tired body resting on bales of hay, with a young woman tenderly stroking him. It seems he collapsed yesterday, and as it was impossible to move him, he was visited by the vet, given painkillers, and remained there all night. We of course offered help, but could see that Butch’s very distressed owner wanted to spend a quiet time with him, and give comfort to her beloved friend while she still could.

We left her to it, and returned to our celebration breakfast much subdued. We could see various comings and goings from our window as we ate, though Butch himself was just out of sight beyond the studio. Father walked past a couple of times, mother too – then we saw mother pacing the paddock with a mobile to her ear, and wondered if she was calling in the vet …. We didn’t want to intrude on their sadness, so we decided a long walk to the next village and back to collect our Sunday papers would raise our spirits a little.

The winter sunshine kept us from feeling chilly , and we got to thinking what a lovely way for Bruce’s life to ebb away , nestled in the warmth of both the sun and this young woman’s love. We had discovered only recently that he was in fact 35 years old, which is extremely aged for a horse yet, like my mother, he enjoyed his declining years to the full. Only yesterday morning when I looked out from the house I saw Butch lingering by the window of my studio (where I had left the curtains open), obviously curious to see if I was around. Sadly I was too busy to pop down the garden then, so I missed one last ‘conversation’ with him, but over the past week I have enjoyed his company several times as he’s gazed at me rattling away on my computer.

When we arrived back from our long walk, I scurried down the garden to slip into the small gap between my studio window and the paddock fence, to see only a few sad mounds of abandoned hay. Magpies were fluttering about on the grass, a heron landed clumsily on the banks of the rhyne, and the sun continued to shine. Life goes on ……. who would have guessed that so sorrowful a happening had taken place in these beautiful surroundings. Many a tear will have been shed, not least by me, but Butch’s owners will be comforted by the knowledge that he was dearly loved and cared for.

As the sun is beginning now to set, I’m gazing dolefully out across the dejectedly vacant paddock. You will be missed so much my dear old friend.    R.I.P

SUCH IS LIFE.

'GRANDMOTHER'  from 'Mother & Home Magazine.
5th February 1910.

Another new gown, as I declare!
How many more is it going to be?
And your forehead is all hid in a cloud of hair -
'Tis nothing but folly, that I can see.
The maidens of nowadays make too free;
To right and to left the money is flung:
WE used to dress as became our degree -
But things have altered since I was young.

'Stuff' in my time was made to wear,
Gowns we had never but two or three:
Did we fancy them spoilt if they chanced to tear?
And shrink from a patch or a darn? not we!
For pleasure, a gossiping dish of tea,
Or a mushroom hunt, while the dew yet hung,
And no need next day for the doctor's fee -
But things have altered since I was young.

A yellow gig, and a drive to the fair,
A keepsake bought in a booth on the lea:
A sixpence perhaps to break and share -
That's how your grandfather courted me.
Did your grandmother blush, do you think.. not she
When he found her, the churn and the pails among?
Or your grandfather like her the less?  not he
But things have altered since I was young.

Child, you pout, and you urge your plea -
Better it were that you held your tongue!
Maids should learn at their elders' knee -
But things have altered since I was young.
     ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... .....

THAT Grandparent must have been born circa 1840 or so ...... 
Some things never change!

'L'Homme Qui Marche' .... keep on walking!

Why would I need to fritter £65,000,000 on a Giacometti sculpture when I already have a FAR better  though very similar figure made for me as a birthday present by our clever grandson, Max!

My work of art has the lovely title 'Big Hug', and since it took up residence in my kitchen a few months ago, has been much praised by all who have been lucky enough to view it. 

(It looks even more impressive out of doors!)

Max - to me it is priceless!

SPRING IN JANUARY.

We two have just returned from a walk around and about the village posting the Agendas for next week's Memorial Hall Meeting to 10 Committee members.     Down here in Somerset we have been enjoying sunshine all day (unlike most of the rest of the country apparently - and in fact Jenny told me this morning that it was even raining in Sydney today though with a 25 degree temperature), so although a trifle chilly, it was perfect walking weather.

I returned eager to do a quick blog because I was keen to pass on to others our excitement at the unexpected  signs of spring we found,  even though we are right in the middle of winter.   We were really delighted to come across a cheery cluster of primroses flowering beneath a tree, and daffodils in bud - last year at this time daffodils were blooming in profusion everywhere - we had seen the first ones before the old year ended, but this year we have only recently  seen small shoots emerging from the ground.      And many of the trees and bushes, on closer inspection, are beginning to bud.

Once back home I took my camera out into our own garden to see if there were any signs of life, and was so pleased for find  a few shoots of forsythia, the odd blue vinca flower, and several bright yellow spikes of mahonia nestling under the magnolia tree.  Also the standard rosemary bush, a Mothers Day gift 5 years ago, had little blue flowers emerging along its stems (but I made a mess of that photo!). Best of all, a little pot of four snowdrop bulbs which my Mum had planted for me have come into bloom and provide such an uplifting sight just outside our bedroom window (it's at last light enough to see them by 7.30a.m.!).  Once their flowers are over Mum wants us to plant them in the garden whilst still 'in the green', so they should provide a winter treat for years to come.

It may be January, but spring definitely seems to be in the air - as we ate an orange and banana each on getting back indoors (we'd usually opt for the cake tin, but are trying, spasmodically to cut down a little after our Christmas excesses) - we were intrigued to watch two squirrels playing along the length of fence separating the paddock from the rhyne.     They appeared to be courting, one of them cavorting along for a distance, waiting for the other to catch up, and then playfully springing off again - though never moving very far out of reach.   We were very aware of much birdsong today too, as if the sunshine and blue skies after all the winter's snow are already turning their fancy to thoughts of love.

I do hope this 'Rustle of Spring' provides a little bit of hope to set against all the dreary news in our Sunday papers today.

Eat Your Heart Out, Mr. Keiller.

We have been making marmalade.

What nicer way to spend a cold January afternoon than sitting companionably at the table chopping the warm soggy orange peel ('no dear, I know you like Thick Cut, but that's more Steak-Cut') whilst engaging in idle chatter - 'Have those cracks in the wall always been there?', 'It would be nice to visit the Van Gogh Exhibition at the R.A. don't you think? ', and 'Did I ever tell you about ..?'

Watching John skillfully retrieve the boiled pips from the juice with a potato masher was quite an eye-opener, and stirring large quantities of sugar into the boiling pulpy mixture and seeing it voraciously consumed was somehow rather seductive. And oh the pleasure of reaching that perfect 'rolling boil', followed by the heady excitement of waiting for Setting Point to be reached! We took turns recovering small amounts of the mixture to test - I virtuously returning mine to the pan, whilst John devoured his with greedy delight.

At last we decided it was ready, so whilst John ladled the steaming golden mixture into hot waiting jars, I fixed the lids and wiped the sticky outsides with a damp cloth. We were disappointed to find before going to bed, that the marmalade though almost cold, showed no sign of setting - but what satisfaction next morning to discover it had jelled perfectly.

We produced around 10 lbs of marmalade in jars of various sizes - far less now than the vast amounts we made with the help of the children over the course of many years. We used the same old recipe, and it brought back such memories of happy times with the family all involved in this productive and very satisfying winter pastime.

In bed that evening I found myself repeating over and over in my mind the words of one of my most favourite childhood poems ....

The King asked the Queen and the Queen asked the Dairymaid

'Could we have some butter for the Royal Slice of Bread?'

The Queen asked the Dairymaid, the Dairymaid said
'Certainly - I'll go and tell the cow now before she goes to bed'

The Dairymaid she curtsied and went and told the Alderney

'Don't forget the butter for the Royal Slice of Bread'

The Alderney said sleepily 'You'd better tell his Majesty

That many people nowadays like Marmalade instead'.

The Dairymaid said 'Fancy' and went to her Majesty

She curtsied to the Queen and she turned a little red.
'Excuse me Your Majesty for taking of the liberty

But Marmalade is tasty if it's very thickly spread' ...................

(I don't know why, but as a child I always loved repeating over and over - 'for taking of the liberty')

Anyway next morning we much enjoyed our Sunday breakfast boiled eggs, followed by toast AND butter AND marmalade ........ both very thickly spread!

What Resolutions??

Viv and Trev might be gladdened to hear that my freshly-baked chocolate cake proved irresistable today!

Our excuse is that we have to keep warm in this winter’s snow……….

How’s your diet going???