Running

 just to stand still.

 Although this cold spell may stem the advancing tide a little,

the alliums are opening and the irises too.

Daily postings required to keep the record in order.

As someone cheerily pointed out on the radio this morning,
only eight weeks until the nights start drawing in.

This little one is away on tour.
Such is the life of a Thespian's child.
She has already had her first speaking part on the radio.

Through leaves 2

This autumn may not have boasted
the finest display of flaming colours
in this neck of the woods,

but there's never been a better year

for soft shoe shuffling through leaves.

Let me count the ways

 How many ways can you spell contemporary?

http://www.bbcshop.com/audio/comedy/icat/comedyaudio/
click 'View All' under 'Genre' in the left hand column.

It's the BBC for goodness sake.

Was someone having a laugh?

I've tried telling them about it

and had two holding emails so far.

See how grumpy I am?

Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells.

Roberts revived

Yes, I bought a new radio.

Yes, the old one has regained consciousness

and is broadcasting again!


If only the hedgehog could have been 
brought back to life with a hairdryer.
It still haunts me.
How did it get in there?
How wasn't it spotted?
But then again,


(those of a sensitive disposition
 look away now)








how did our missing hamster get into a Thermos flask,
in a cupboard,
put the two tops back on and die there?

Dry clean only

I heard a worrying thump

as the drum revolved

and couldn't understand why 

there was a long black wire

lashing the window.

I drained the machine 

and hauled out the sodden material.

The moment of recognition was horrible.

I had subjected my beloved Roberts radio

to a hot wash,

when I tossed it into the washing machine

with the duvet cover.

That radio has been my small hours companion

for so long.

I have always had a radio to tuck under the pillow.

Radio Luxembourg, Radio Caroline, Radios 4, 3, 2 and 1,

always there to lull me back to sleep

or at least to preserve me from

 the boredom of yet another too early waking.

I even took one on a school cruise to the West Indies.

One night the white noise permeated my dreams

and I tried desperately to turn off taps 

while clutching at the metal bars of my berth.

I have tried to coax it back to life -

dried its exposed innards with a hairdryer,

but all it can manage is a faint

hiss.

Have you ever washed the unwashable?

In the kitchen. On the radio.

I rescued the last of the elderflowers just in time for the cordial,

made quartered focaccia

and a batch of yogurt
all under glowering skies with stinging rain,
and then those sudden shafts of brilliant evening sun
which can only penetrate our north-facing kitchen
for a few weeks in summer.

This was playing on the radio.

Will Nigel bounce?

If you've been listening to The Archers

for as long as I have

the signposts were in dayglo yellow

and had people shouting through loudhailers beneath them.

Glorious review for his Dame in the panto?

Touching gift of Mummy's brooch?

A banner on the roof?

'I'll just have to climb a little higher'?

Puhleese...

But maybe, just maybe,

they have a cunning plan.

I'm going to have to check the map of Ambridge

but could he have fallen into the treetop walkway?

You heard it here first.

I-Spy

You were not a properly equipped child of the 60s if you didn't have

a collection of I-Spy books.

In black and white for 6d

or full colour for 1/-

 these were produced by Big Chief I-SPY 

at the News Chronicle Wigwam

in Bouverie Street, London E.C.4.

Actually Big Chief I-SPY moved about a bit over the years 

and could also be found at

Wigwam-by-the-Water, Upper Thames Street.

Anyway, all you needed to become a member of the I-Spy tribe

was sixpence, or 1/- or 2s.6d

depending on how early you were born

and then

you would receive an I-SPY membership pack with

a badge, (an Open Sesame to all kinds of places),

a Tally Card, and a Book of Secret Codes

for decoding messages in the News Chronicle & Daily Dispatch,

News Chronicle, or Daily Mail

again depending on your generation.

In one book there was even a secret sign 

but they seem to have dropped that later.

But of course the main point of all this 

was to be a member of a Great Tribe

of explorers, discoverers, trackers and spotters.

Between 5 and 30 points were awarded

depending on scarcity, for each entry.

A philosophical attitude was encouraged,

'Some days are better than other. You may get a run of blank ones. 

And then along comes a real red-letter day - 

you spot the very thing you've been wanting for months. 

And your score takes a great leap upwards.

Don't expect to be lucky EVERY day'.

Finally, when you reached 1,500 points your record was to be examined 

by a teacher or parent and signed off as being genuine,

before being sent in (with a 3d stamp for its return)

to claim your

Order of Merit, with the Big Chief's Seal.

I never got as far as this, even though 

I may well have been tempted to cheat a little with my spotting 

as I was not a very patient child.

  I heard on the radio this morning that

they have been re-issued by Michelin.

Now you must collect 1000 pints before you can join the club

and I don't think you get a badge or a secret code anymore

but it doesn't surprise me that these little books

could prove to be as enduring as their creator

Charles Warrell, who died when he was 106.

All in a day

Stew plums and greengages from the Kent House Gardens,

roast wedges of Turk's Turban squash from our garden,

make tomato sauce from the last of the Tumbling Toms while

listening to myself on the radio.

At the end of a strange day

some quietly contemplative pictures are needed.

Through leaves

In 1950, Vita Sackville-West identified in a broadcast on the BBC, a number of unremarkable but essential pleasures. 
These brief moments were termed in the family shorthand, 

“through leaves”, 

after the small but intense pleasure of kicking through dry leaves.

It was “through leaves” to run a stick along an iron railing
 or crunch thin ice; 
to suddenly remember a word or name you thought you’d forgotten;
 to write with the perfect pen; 
pulling curtains that run freely on their rods; 
sliding out a drawer which opened readily and silkily on ball bearings, 
cutting pages of a book with a sharp paper cutter; 
drawing a cork with a good corkscrew; 
drinking when you're thirsty; 
feeling of sand between your toes at the beach; 
and reading in bed. 
Others include; sinking into bouncy seats at the movies; 
waking up to find it has snowed overnight; 
shopping in an outdoor market; 
putting on a freshly ironed shirt 
or suddenly catching sight of the sea.

I find it pleasing that nearly 60 years later, 
I can still identify with so many of these things.

Perhaps sticks and railings are harder to come by 
and we hardly ever have to wield a paper cutter 
before we can read a new book, 
but nothing else is unfamiliar to me.

Remembering the word ‘choisya’ yesterday was a huge relief 
and so was ‘altruistic’ and ‘impulsive’. 
I’ll forget them again no doubt, 
but then have the fun of remembering them all over again.

I used to love a Rotring pen, 
but these days a Pilot V5 Hi-tecpoint is just right.

Curtains run more freely if you spray the rail with WD40. 
I did that after the rail came down 
and had to be replaced in our bedroom.

Corks are often screwtops or plastic which is a crying shame.

 We don’t buy bottled water but I used to like Hildon Still. 

The bottle was an elegant shape with a plainish blue label.

Camber Sands has the best fine sand near to hand
and dunes and board walks. 
It is often used as a location substitute for New England.

Reading in bed is good but brief in duration. 
I’m reading a Persephone book (for a change) 
called the Fortnight in September by RC Sherriff.

There were very bouncy seats at the Haymarket Cineworld 
when we went to see Benjamin Button 
but the experience was marred by the nacho chomping, 
texting, talking couple next to me. 
More ‘nails down blackboard’ than ‘through leaves’. 
But let’s not go there.

It did snow overnight 
and it was the best thing that happened all winter. 

And there were icy puddles to crunch.

Borough Market is great but you need to get there early 
otherwise it’s just a scrum. 
 Good markets in Italy were hard to find, too much tat. 
But I have high hopes of finding a nice one this summer in Provence.

I’m not a great shirt wearer, 
in fact there’s one waiting to go back to M&S because 
although it was a lovely Chambray blue 
it makes me look like a police officer, 
and I’m not a great ironer of shirts. 
Sheets though, I’m very good at.

I’m thrilled every time by the sudden sight of the sea 
in the vee at Hope Gap. 

All the more because  a flowery, grassy path that leads down to it 
in a cleft between two steep Downland slopes.

She invited listeners to come up with their own list of pleasures 
to add to those she had overlooked or forgotten.

My list is forming, but that’s enough to be going on with.

What's on yours?