Clarissa et al.

Today would have been Mummy's 78th birthday, so here is Daddy's favourite picture of her taken in 1961.

Three weeks ago I wrote a blog anticipating my cousin's wedding later that day. It appears that the best laid plans of mice and men gang aft aglay, and that the weather was not at its shining best.

I have received this report from someone who was there, though Shelagh from her e-mails appears to have noticed nothing much amiss, although she did remark that the weather wasn't very good and she did come back from her honeymoon with the start of a nasty cough!

"Your hopeful blog about Shelagh's wedding day was not fulfilled. Thursday was overcast and cool, Friday was gloriously warm and sunny, Saturday morning dawned damp and chilly and got worse! By 2pm it was bitterly cold with sleety showers and the marquee wasn't - if you see what I mean - it was more gazebo! We shivered through the service and fortunately between the service and the reception local people went home and came back to the Commons with jumpers, fleeces and blankets that they distributed to the shivering masses. We did not make such a pretty picture at the reception but at least we were warmer! In his speech David thanked people for all the love and affection everyone was sharing with him and Shelagh and how warm they felt, that brought the retort from Emma -"that because they are the ones with the heater under the table!". On Monday night - the first time we watched TV after a sunny cool Sunday and warmer sunny Monday - we saw a news item that told us the "snow belt that wiped out spring and caused chaos in BC on Saturday is now affecting Ottowa" - at least we did not actually get snow!"

Mind you, Shelagh was taught to swim in the Thames and used to swim in Cleethorpes Bathing Pool (large, outdoors and reputedly known to have iceberges floating in it even in August - I learned to swim there myself and had a season ticket most summers) whenever she visited us or our grandparents, so maybe she is not as sensitive to cold as some people. I distinctly remember Uncle Peter (her father) compaining about having to brave the fearful (indoor) heat of the north American winter - this is back in the 1960s when, in England, central heating was for wimps; and my friends will testify that I am a great window opener. So maybe there's a seal or polar bear gene that some people didn't inherit!

The same e-mail quoted above also served to remind me that I had totally fogotten another family wedding - no card, no present, not so much as a good wish! I realise that with more than a dozen of the next generation in their twenties and late teens these events will come thick and fast over the next few years, but not so much so that I should overlook them to such an extent!

We have just had the West Lindsey Churches Weekend when lots of churches which are normally kept locked are open and manned. In ours we had a Flower and Craft Festival, a local history display, and served tea, coffee, sandwiches and cakes. Unfortunately the weather was cool and damp which meant lower visitor numbers than we had hoped for. Maybe the western half of West Lindsey will have better luck next weekend.

I took loads of pictures, but thought I would just include a few of the fifteen contributions here.

Our theme was Stained Glass: mine is an arrangement of wild flowers against a broken window signifying a ruined church in an overgrown churchyard, while Lynne, Christine, Joyce and Ken all chose the bright colours of stained glass for their floral displays. Some of the more imaginative concepts - Madge's coloured glass marbles and paper-weights, Margaret's carpet of bedding plants and Joe's blossom seen through glass didn't photograph so well. Pam's contribution was the magnificent cake which she donated to the church for us to sell; however that evening nine people from our group of parishes as well as an equal number from elswhere in the deanery were being confirmed, so we clubbed together to buy the cake as a present for them to share at the bunfight afterwards (which was held in the Methodist Chapel).
The following picture which shows the confirmation group is a download from the Grimsby Evening Telegraph website, and has been watermarked to prevent people wanting to print it.

Jessica, Helen's baby, is twelve today. Her presents were a bit sparse as she is saving for a spaniel puppy (due to be born at the end of the month), but I gave her earrings and air-dry clay, which seem to me to balance the young lady and the little girl quite nicely; anyway, she seemed pleased.

This is quite an old picture of Jess with Ebony, the rabbit who went native and who is presumably responsible for the numerous black rabbits to be found round here of late.

It is now raining, which is a mercy as I have spent the last few very fine days in the garden. The asparagus is wonderful. (This vegetable is, contrary to popular myth, the easiest plant ever to grow. I planted seeds 19 years ago, ate the first small crop 17 years ago, and for the past fifteen years have had three good cuts a week from May Day to Midsummer Day from a bed 8 foot by 18 inches, all on the strength of weeding it once a year and shoving on a bit of garden compost each spring. I love gardens, but am not gardener - I work on the good results/minimum effort system with lots of wild areas. My other vegetable is the equally easy Jerusalem artichoke. Father does new potatoes and tomatoes.

My idea of gardening is to weed a small bed OR plant a couple of things OR prune something small, then sit down with a good book to contemplate my handiwork. (I adopt the same system with housework, except that I find it is perfectly possible to hoover with a book in hand, and most other jobs can be done with an eye on the television.)

Anyway, back to the garden: as I said, my view of outdoors is mainly contemplative. My niece, Jessica (11), has other view and positively forces me to play tennis. Since anyone who can hit a ball can play tennis better than I, you will understand that my skill in this direction is, despite sharing a birthday with John McEnroe, not exactly great. Personally I blame it on Miss Wright - truly terrifying pint-size games mistress (read the barely fictionalised portrait in Kathleen Rowntree's "Tell Mrs. Poole I'm Sorry') who took one look at the 11 year old me and said "Turner girl: I taught your mother; I taught your aunt. Turner girl." in tones of utmost contempt. (You must bear in mind that the aunt in question was my father's sister so we are talking a certain lack of sporting ability on both sides, but with a little encouragement I'm sure I could have risen a level or so above totally useless all the way up to moderately useless.) Her dismissal of my little sister was still briefer - just "Turner." followed by a snort.

Anyway, Jess (who has inherited the family way with a ball, but a certain agility from her father who was in youth a good enough distance runner to train with county class runners) has a more understanding games teacher and retains her enthusiasm, not to mention a certain optimism about the benefits of practice, makes me play tennis. We are not good, neither of us can return a ball with any degree of accuracy, but we can both serve beautifully. I now have a very painful right shoulder through this unaccustomed exercise. And this is why I am grateful for the rain this evening.

On the subject of contemplating the landscape (or gardening as I call it) I thought I would share the views from our garden.

View to the North

View to the East

View to the South

View to the West.

Today is the last of this week's mega-events!

Two of the nicest people I know are having their eighteenth birthdays.

The elder (marginally) of the two is Cally (Callista) the cat. Her other mummy is my friend Becky who sent Cally to live with me for six months while she got herself turned around after the break-up of her marriage and the birth of her son - that was fifteen years ago. Three years earlier on May 1st 1988 she rang me up all excited because she had just helped delivera neighbour's cat of a litter of three kittens and was going to keep one of them. "So what," I replied, "I've just go a brand new nephew."

So here is Cally . . .

but Jacob is camera shy. He is a student at Bishop Burton College where is on the Equine Studies course. He lives and breaths country pursuits. He has three great loves in his life - his horses, his car and his spotty dog, Daisy.

Cally's picture dates back to last summer. She is an old lady and has gone back to bed after a quick breakfast, so no photos until later in the day. I am hoping to persuade the two of them into a special birthday picture later today.