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.

The charge of the white brigade

Impelled by who knows what threat,

pulled perhaps by a distant but urgent call

from the valley,

sheep started to stream down the hill 

towards us

their little cloven hooves thundering like race horses'

until finally they slowed to a halt 

and turned to examine us with their 

letterbox eyes,

passive and inscrutable.

Emergency? What emergency?

Can't stop

gotta run. . .

Here's a corner of the kitchen,

primed and ready for the off tomorrow morning.

Running

Went to the park for a run
for the first time after a long break,

channelling my inner Ueli Steck.

Duck therapy 3

I used to run with a friend in the park

five early mornings out of seven.

We ran in all weathers, for years.

We never got any faster 

and we never ran any further than one circuit.

Actually we didn't even run all the way,

the track was handily marked in 100 metre sections

which we ran and walked alternately.

It's called fartlekking apparently.

The object was not physical fitness,

or weight loss,

(the cappuccinos in the cafe afterwards took care of that)

but it certainly helped with mental wellbeing.

We took it in turns to offload whatever was on our minds

from the preceding day's events.

Big or small, they got a thorough airing.

And on the way we noted the changes

that the seasons brought.

The change that the last season brought,

was the end of our running.

I walked the circuit in the late afternoon sun.

It seemed very long and the light was all wrong.

So I was the mad woman talking to the ducks

and being cold shouldered by the pigeons.

Flying with Mozart

 It's a good thing the day is long,

there is much to do ...

Enjoying this rush of wind under my wings,
the Rondo Allegro at 04:19.

Antics

I accidently disturbed an ant's nest beneath a slate.

They immediately fell to rectifying the damage

by implementing their emergency drill,

carrying the exposed pupae to safety underground.

It was so methodical and swift.

Most of the ants were porters

although some of them did seem to be scurrying

rather frenziedly to and fro,

metaphorically clutching their heads and exclaiming,

Early one morning

The marathon runners are out in force in the park

preparing for April 17th.

They probably don't have time to notice

the wonderfully backlit reeds and grasses,

the fractured reflections,

the gold green light

and the small dramas.

You have to run quite slowly to see them.

Luckily that's what we do.

Kendal Mint cake...

...I thought when I saw this.

According to the Romney's website it is made from 

fiercely boiled sugar, glucose and water.

After cooling, half an ounce of oil of peppermint 
is added to every 40 lb of mix.

Only the first finest oils are used in preparation, 
a blend of the famous

American Wayne County brand, 
with Brazilian and Chinese types.

It has a subtle but stimulating flavour, 
cool in summer, fiery in winter.

Edmund Hilary and his team carried Romney's Kendal Mint Cake 
with them on the first ascent of Mount Everest in 1953.

'We sat on the snow and looked at the country far below us ... 

we nibbled Kendal Mint Cake'.

Better get some in. More snow is forecast.

The chocolate covered one for preference.

My morning run

How I wish...


...found here.

Oh! There you are.

You're looking a bit peaky.

What's the matter old thing?

Well, no, sorry, I know you're not that old,

fifty's the new forty isn't it?

Not much over fifty surely?

No honestly you don't look a day over...

freckles are very enyouthening.

Look I didn't come here to have an argument,

it's just I'm a little concerned about you is all.

Well you seem to have lost some of your old fizz.

You used to be so full of plans and projects.

Yes, I did hear you on the radio actually.

It didn't sound much like you.

Was it fun?

Oh I see.

Well I don't suppose many people were listening at that time of day.

You already told me about your blog.

Does anyone read it?

How do you know?

That's very kind of them.

And the National Trust have taken some of your old toys for an exhibition,

well I'm sure they're very grateful...

but be honest, it was just part of your rather premature downsizing ploy,

foisting them on that poor girl.

Yes, you still go running - that's admirable too.

Will it ever be further than once round the park?

No of course we can't all be Eddie Izzard.

So why the miz viz?

No really, I'm listening, tell me.

Are you ill?

Money worries?

House falling down?

Oh for heaven's sake woman, get a grip.

You must have realised your children were going to grow up.

But it's taken years and years, what do you mean

you didn't know it would go so quickly?

But it's lovely that they're leading such busy happy lives,

Well you could get out more surely.

No need to mope around the place.

Nobody wants a glum chum.

What do you mean you don't know what you're for anymore.

I've never heard such self-pitying drivel.

Treat yourself to a new hat.

That always used to work for women your age.

Or a lipstick!

Oh I forgot, you don't wear make up

or hats.

But seriously, there are some marvellous concealers around now,

they'd knock back those freckles a tad.

Look I'm only trying to help.

You need to move on, shape up, make yourself useful.

You could have another forty years in you.

Ninety is the new eighty you know.

You don't hear Joanna Lumley complaining do you and she's sixty four?

Go and read her book for her sheer joie de vivre,

with a lovely glass of Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc,

no, not a whole bottle,

there's much to be done,

and you are nearly free to do it now

if you'd just learn to let go.

And if all else fails, have you ever considered taking up tap dancing?

Or getting a dog?

OK I'm going now.

I do hope that has helped.

Coffee

After our run, we have a lovely big cappuccino, preferably in the park cafe but sometimes back home from the Francis Francis machine, one with a dusting of chocolate, one without.

If all goes according to plan the froth is dense and creamy, it's not so strong that it makes my eyes spin and not so hot that I have to wait.

The corner table is free and the music not too loud.

 The best bit is being demonstrated by this lady with the rather defiant stare.