Wonders and Wishes - a Postscript.

I decided that my new acquisition should have a name. It is beefy and robust, so has to be masculine. What better appellation for a Water Feature than …….. Walter (which is bound to be shortened to Wally, or Walt.) I suppose, of course, that this will lead to comments from the family along the lines of ..’I see you haven’t turned your Walter on today …’ But I can take it.

We have christened Walter this afternoon by taking polite afternoon tea out on the studio terrace beside him. We may both have been in our dirty gardening clothes, but we drank from fine bone china and partook of chocolate biscuits.

As I write it’s not far off yard-arm time, and still hot and sunny …… so I think we’ll be joining Walter for gin and tonic any time now!

Wonders and Wishes.

It is surprising sometimes what great pleasure comes from small unexpected things.

I spend a lot of time down in my cosy studio at the bottom of the garden, overlooking a paddock, and field of cows beyond. Whenever I avert my gaze from the computer screen there is always something fresh to take my attention. So it is that a stunningly perfect, single sunflower has appeared from nowhere right outside my window! I took a look outside in the tiny area between me and the honeysuckle entwined fence, and discovered it was growing from earth in an old abandoned pot. As I have never grown sunflowers before, I guess a bird must have deposited the seed, and somehow it has thrived. During the horrid wet weather we have suffered over the past fortnight, this unexpected bloom has provided such a very welcome burst of bright yellow sunshine right outside my window.

Why is it though that so much of what I tenderly nurture in the garden fails to do well, yet this casually scattered seed has flourished? I shall enjoy watching the cushion of sunflower seeds ripen, and will store them over the winter in the perhaps vain hope that just one or two might blossom for me next summer.

Another source of enormous satisfaction and sheer joy has been to have at last acquired something I have long coveted. A water feature! I have cherished the idea of hearing the sound of gurgling water outside in my little studio garden for as long as I have been lucky enough to have my own little eyrie. I bought a simple arrangement in a sale some 4 years ago, but it has stood parched and neglected not only because John wasn’t happy about the necessary requirements in the electrics department, but also because little grandchildren spent a happy time filling the narrow tube through the heavy concrete ball with small, immovable stones.

Then one day we casually called in at a Water Garden Centre, and discovered a really nice inexpensive set-up which came complete. Plug-in and go. Except paving slabs had to be lifted - and gaining access to the socket inside my studio was no easy matter – but the man of the house overcame all. And now water flows! I am ecstatic!

Few people are lucky enough to realize their dreams… but I have! Together with all my other blessings, too numerous to list, I now have a balcony to relax on (of which more another time) AND water sparkling in today’s sunshine as it cascades over a very pleasing little edifice. I can die happy! (… but not yet, hopefully.)

Into My Seventies ...

What a brilliant birthday surprise – after a mystery tour arriving at the beautiful Ston Easton Park in rural Somerset to find Jon and Sam and Kim sipping pre-lunch drinks in the drawing room. How wonderful! Lunch in such splendid surroundings was an absolute delight, and their company was SO much appreciated as I know that Jon is frantically busy workwise just now up in Edinburgh, and Kim is up to her eyes with bunting-making and school holidays. The sun shone, and we two were able to enjoy the extensive gardens late afternoon after they had all set off on their long journey back.

Jenny, Katy and William phoned birthday greetings from Oz at the start of the day, and on our return Kerry had left a phone message, and Sean even rang from his holiday base in La Manga . With 30+ cards, and lots of lovely presents, it was a great birthday!

Jaunty Jacket from John!

Next day we went over to Wales to pick up Kerry and take her to a lovely rural pub nearby where we all enjoyed a great lunch together, returning to the Clinic for afternoon tea, and to open Kerry’s presents. She was in really good form, so we all had a great day together.

Bless the bunch of you ……. Your Ma can’t thank you enough, and loves you lots. x

Wayside Flowers

We decided half way through Sunday that we needed a bit of exercise. A rare weekend at home all to ourselves, had resulted in us both eating and drinking too much – the pre-dinner drink, together with dips and crisps which himself hadn’t been able to resist whilst doing his Saturday shop – the ‘Saturday fry-up’ so seldom enjoyed these days – the profiteroles afterwards ….. and then a cooked Sunday breakfast …… all these excesses had left their mark.

We justified all this by having done a great deal of work on the house and in the garden – clearing gutters, cutting back bushes, mowing the lawns etc., but still our tummies felt heavy, and in spite of dull skies and frequent showers, we donned our raincoats and took a roadside walk to avoid mud underfoot.

Walking a loop from our home necessitated covering a section of the seldom-used footpath along the A38, and to our great delight we discovered SO many varieties of wild flowers growing there. And this in spite of all the CO2 generated by the generally constant traffic using the road. Once we started taking note of the different varieties we were amazed at just how many there were. We’re born and bred townies, both, so are unfamiliar with the names of everything we saw, but here are a few of them.

........ and we harvested just a very few to enjoy back home .......

Sporty, Spritely, Cerebral Seventies!

‘’You’re hardly ever in!’ and ‘Your mobile’s never switched on’
‘No’ and ‘No’ I reply, and from what I hear from my contemporaries, we oldies are all tarred with the same brush. Having spawned, supported, savoured, sometimes suffered, shared, and scattered our so-special sprogs, we find ourselves at a stage when we have just about enough energy to go and do our own ‘thing’ before time runs out.

So it was this week. We have just spent a couple of fun-filled days at Mary and Lewis’ lovely cottage right by Marlow Bridge. Mary is a superb cook, Lewis keeps a great cellar, and they are the best of hosts. The most delectable dishes appear on the table with seeming ease, conversation and laughter come thick and fast, and we finally totter back across the lawn from their luxurious summerhouse a little tiddly (well, a lot tiddly really) to find our way up to our bedroom sometime after midnight.

But that isn’t all we do ……. Though it ought to be more than enough for persons of our advancing years. After a ‘light lunch’ and wine we played a couple of 9-hole rounds of golf at their nearby Bisham golfcourse – its narrow fairways along the banks of the Thames making it more challenging than might be supposed. We braved showers of rain, but remained chirpy and determined throughout – even though the two ‘boys’ beat us ‘girls’ by a couple of holes.














Next morning we were up betimes and on Marlow Bridge at 9a.m. to watch the ‘Swan Upping’ – a delightfully olde-English tradition featuring red and white uniformed Swan Uppers, and gentlemen from a City Livery Company quaffing glasses of something suitably sustaining on the riverside lawns of the Compleat Angler Hotel before rowing off down the river, swan-bedecked flags flying.

After a healthy and nourishing breakfast (preceded by a couple of Alka Seltzers), we drove off up to Waddesdon Manor near Aylesbury. I had expected something on the lines of a sprawling country manor house, but found instead an enormous French-style chateau. I should have known better – it was the home of the Rothschild family before being bequeathed to the National Trust.

The vast gardens were full of statuary, topiary, fountains, and glorious flowers, as well as the most splendid aviary I have ever set eyes on. The fine sunny day made wandering round the estate a real pleasure, and then of course we needed to refuel at the Manor Restaurant……. delicious, thankyou Lewis.

The interior of the ‘palace’ (for it was nothing short of that) was just mind-blowing. Such chandeliers, such furnishings, so many glorious paintings by all the great masters, such fabulous ceramics, and so so many wonderful treasures …… it was totally stunning and truly magnificent. We even got to tour the Rothschild wine cellars, a catacomb of delight for we who consider ourselves ‘buffs’

People complain of this still being a class-ridden society. But just 100 years ago, only the privileged few would have been able to enjoy those opulent, totally sumptuous surroundings, whereas now we old-timers, as well as the world and his wife (and children) can roam such places for the price of a National Trust ticket. Indeed there is now a terrific Woodland Playground for children of all ages, which the Rothschilds would certainly never have dreamt of.

Such is the tenor of our days now that we have reached the rather pleasant plateau of the third age. It’s a great life, which we shall continue to take delight in until we’re ‘sans everything’.

Thankyou Lewis and Mary for such a happy time ……..and we look forward to your return visit with great pleasure.

'Dearest Daddy'

Such a happy Fathers’ Day – with cards, presents and telephone calls from as far afield as Australia, Wales, and Scotland, we drove down to Hampshire at lunchtime where Kim, bless her, gave her Daddy a very special day.

A ginormous coffee cake on arrival, strawberry picking in nearby fields with the family, a superb chicken meal with potatoes and asparagus freshly gathered, then his favourite desserts – treacle tart, AND a monumental strawberry meringue …… what a Happy Daddy.

It was a real pleasure to savour the teenage grandkids – it’s a cliché, of course to comment on how they’ve grown, but all seem to have matured considerably since we saw them (only a couple of months ago), and they are all ripening into full-flavoured, fruity adults of the rarest and most exceptional variety!

A bowl of huge and colourful roses on the kitchen table, strolling round the garden this morning in the sunshine surveying the vegetable plot, decamping with some of the cake and tart, strawberries, and a batch of freshly laid eggs, then driving home across countryside exuberant with elderflower in full bloom (reminding us of the fragrant home-made elderflower cordial we had so enjoyed last evening) …. Memories, as they say, are made of this.

Thank you all x

'All Things Bright ....'

On one fortnight every year, I am responsible for ensuring that our village church is kept clean and tidy, as are many other villagers in our Parish. This is not a particularly arduous task, much easier in fact than the fortnight during which I am responsible for cleaning the brass, of which there seems an inordinate amount..

This year it came at the same time as the AGM of our Village Hall Committee followed swiftly by the first meeting of the new Committee, which all involved much typing on my part, and long walks delivering first the Agenda, then the Minutes. So it was well into my fortnight before I found time to gather my Hoover, broom, dusters, dustpan and brush and sally forth.

Ours is just a quiet 13th Century country church, but it is its setting which makes it rather special. It sits in a sheltered bowl with hills rising all around, part of an area designated as of Outstanding Natural Beauty. When I clattered the lych gate shut, and struggled up the path with my cleaning equipment, a couple of horses in a paddock just beyond the churchyard looked up with mild interest, their chestnut coats gleaming in the summer sunshine. Cows grazed contentedly in the fields beyond, and the few houses scattered along the hillsides seemed to be dosing peacefully in the warmth of the sun.

I love having this ancient church all to myself for a while, and go about giving it a mini-spring-clean with great enthusiasm, singing much-loved hymns to myself and glorying in the tranquility of the place. I imagine all the many happy occasions this old church has seen over hundreds of years, the simple Baptisms, the country weddings, the Christmas Services. And I ponder too on the tears shed here, and the sorrowful prayers, and the comfort that only a holy place such as this can provide.

I remember too a very happy time, when I brought two of our young grandchildren armed with their own dusters and brushes, to give me a helping hand. They swept and dusted with great enthusiasm, but to little avail, and merrily investigated almost every movable item in the church. When all was finished, the elder – Katy aged 7 - decided we should have our own little Service, that she would be Preacher, and her younger brother William and I would be the congregation. She had him hold up Hymn Numbers and we had to sing ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’ right through, before she told us to take our seats. She had picked up a Cross from a window ledge, climbed the steps to the pulpit, and her head and shoulders just about visible, remarked on the sadly small congregation for a church this size, before proceeding with her Sermon. ‘You see Jesus here on the Cross’ she exclaimed in high ecclesiastical style ‘Well, do you know he is NOT here – and where is He? – He is in our hearts!’ (She had obviously profited from her education at a Church of England Primary school in a village just across the Mendips.)

Whilst enjoying my normally solitary time in Church, I take great delight in reading the lovely things people write in our Visitors’ Book So many folk, it seems, take time to drop in when touring the area, and their comments are a joy. One however, made me smile this morning Obviously written by a child (named Laura) it read ‘Very Good. Bit smelly though’.….. obviously she had not appreciated what I consider is an essential element of old churches – its odeur d’antiquite – made up partly of a vague dampness, partly the lingering perfume of flower arrangements (as well as a touch of the remains of dead flowers) and partly, I think, for want of a better explanation, the Holy Spirit (though not the alchoholic kind!). It was good to see another little girl - Emily - had written on the following page ‘I think this church is brill’. Very reassuring!
When I had finished the inside of the Church, I went out to tidy up the Porch, noticing pinned on the old door a warning to keep it closed to stop the swallows and bats getting trapped inside. The swallows were greatly in evidence, swooping excitedly from their nest just inside the Porch, around my head, and out into the Churchyard. However, I couldn’t resist leaving the heavy door fixed open whilst I swept the flagged floor, and Hoovered the doormat, all the time to the accompaniment of much twittering from the agitated swallows who I took good care to exclude. I thought I owed it to Laura to give the church a blast of fresh air. And though she might not have agreed with me, I left the church, armed with my trusty tools, feeling it had that same nice clean whiff about it that our own home does after I’ve had one of my too rare housewifely purges!