Tall cat and friend bonus post

The owner of this hat (like Patsy) is not here at present.

Letters from Abroad

When I was a child we never travelled further than Cornwall

(by steam train!).

We had no car and I took my first flight aged 16 when I went on a school cruise.

Nevertheless I was set a holiday project at primary school

entitled Letters From Abroad.

I had to write and illustrate letters from imaginary friends

in six foreign countries.

This was a great trial to me and my mother that summer.

I remember sitting for hours at the dining room table surrounded by

piles of travel brochures brought home from the travel agents,

snipping out pictures of exotic locations

and laboriously writing stilted descriptions of the

wonders to be seen in (amongst other places) the USA and India.

This morning I am having an entertaining exchange

with JofIndia about this,

and am salivating over a picture of his breakfast of 

masala dosa, tuna fish curry, vegetable sambar and hot lime pickle.

I have also just uploaded a picture of grand-daughter 

sitting on the steps to her New York apartment.

Son One has been for a run in a Brooklyn park and met the Mayor of London.

Son Two (also in New York) has attended a Pilates class 

and been for an Indian vegan curry.

Daughter-in-law has unpacked a gazillion suitcases and got everyone 

settled in nicely.

Through this blog and others I enjoy letters from
families at Home and Abroad every morning.

My mother would have loved the internet.

All I've got today

Runaway May

The apple blossom fell.

A dear friend visited from far away.

Younger son knows London better than I do

and sat me in front of this lovely Thames view.

The alliums began to open.

I made a tiny summer dress out of a

Sanderson curtain fabric dating from the 1940s.

The sky was blue one day.

The Libertia flowered.

The irises bowed and snapped under the weight of the rain.

The lambs are decidedly chunky.

Their mothers look long-suffering while they are being head-butted

and sometimes run away.

The tadpoles I rescued from the ex-pond are doing well.

Their mothers are indifferent to their fates.

But mysteriously all the fox cubs have vanished.

Their mother looks rather lost.

Krazy Kondo-ing

On the hottest day of the year we were committed to hosting

a three house Table Sale in the front drive from 7am to 7pm.

Marie doesn't focus on the practicalities of getting the stuff beyond your four walls

after putting it into black bin bags, but this is a good way

if you happen to live on a busy road, on commuter and school routes

with no parking restrictions.

It might have been the heat,

but such was my feverish urge to rid myself of the clutter

that I probably would have put the cat out on the table

if we'd had one.

Ice cold Peronis all round

when we were sure that the last of the weary commuters

had straggled past.

Then a swift trip to the charity shop today

with all the leftovers.

£165 and an empty garage.

We met some very interesting people too.

Our capsule, house to car, car to house life

means we hardly know any of our neighbours

which is a real loss.

We need more people

and fewer things.

Where was I?

Enjoying a fine Spring day at Sissinghurst.

Picking the first Spring flowers from the garden
sparingly.

Flying a kite.

I used to be a bit of a whizz with a Peter Powell stunt kite

on the Bristol Downs.
They were the Toy of the Year in 1976.

This one was harder to control but just as exhilarating.

Finding a silver fish on the beach.

Picking wild garlic for pesto and chicken.

Watching gambolling lambs
and worrying about the lost ones.

Being with all the family for Easter.

Getting another year older

and feeling just the same
even if the mirror begs to differ.

Hasty but heartfelt

(Free range Exmoor ponies in Sussex, so sweet.)

Happy New Year post, 

before we step through the door into 2015.

Thank you for your kind visits and messages during 2014.

Every one of them greatly appreciated.

Missing you already

Tall Cat comes in twice a day now.

Will he miss us when we're gone?

Perhaps we can find a Japanese cat to adopt.

What ho!

Bertie Wooster: Ha! Do you ever feel like opening the window and shouting

that the world is a wonderful place Jeeves?

Jeeves: Erm. . .no, sir.

Bertie Wooster: Or dancing in the street, scattering rose petals on the passers-by?

Jeeves: Only infrequently, sir.

'There is only one cure for grey hair.

It was invented by a Frenchman.

It is called the guillotine.'

I am going to see this.

Hoping to disprove another of Plum's utterances that 

everything in life that's any fun is either immoral, illegal or fattening.

Toodle-pip!

Comfortably ensconced

We seem to be the regular all day snooze venue.

I have to eject him rather firmly

as darkness falls.

'Go back to your family,' I say.

'They must be missing you,' I say.

'You can't stay here,' I say.

He looks at me very reproachfully as he is shown the door.

'See you tomorrow morning,' I say.

You only have to ask

I mentioned to Karen of Cornflower Books on her post 

Observation of the Day,

that I had a copy of Plats du Jour inscribed 'Barbara Pym'

and wished aloud that I could find an example 
of her handwriting to see whether it might be her own.

No sooner said than solved.

She very kindly posted pictures taken here  

and I would say that there is not much doubt

that it is by the same hand.

Folded inside the back cover I found this

advertisement for Lily Brand pastas.

Karen says that she was a keen cook

and an adventurous one too I would say,

because in 1957 very few people were seeking out 

authentic pasta, or even knew where it came from.
This brilliant hoax dates from the same year.

For Sue*

I've found some.


* At the inestimable Quince Tree

The very Happy Birthday weekend

A spring flower show.

A new walk.

A bright birthday dawn.

The first tulips and the first glass of rosé.

A daring walk at an unusually low tide

round the familiar headland

to reveal the one beyond.

A little symbolic I couldn't help thinking 
as I look ahead to

the uncharted waters of my sixties

from the last year of my fifties.

Chocolate.

Useful and beautiful presents

and kind cards and messages

from friends and family.

What better?