Distracted

by the light.

Red Letter Day*

The number 43 bus is red but the view was unremittingly

grey

grey

grey

gray

on this, my blog's

first anniversary.

But having a blog makes you look more carefully

for the red in the grey,

the red, white and grey

the yellow, white and red

the yellow, red and green

the brightly coloured skeins

of threads you pull together

and tidy into balls,

to throw out into the world.

and sometimes people catch them

and throw a ball or two

back to you.

Which is nice.

So thank you to:

maddy, kelli, katie, milly, annie, alice, dottiecookie, nicole, bubblefish, il fratello, baleboosteh, readerguide, patricewilliam, anna, gardenmama, the coffee lady, vanessa, katrina, susan l, sally anne, learningtofollow, slugsontherefrigerator, fuoriborgo, britt-arnhild, l.l.barkat, thaitrait, jennywren, shrub, r2k, liivi, jeanette, elspeth, leah, laurafrantz

and today a blogger sprang to life in front of me

when I least expected it -

Juju Loves Polka Dots

in Loop

* a Red Letter Day

Repose after a trying day

Family life demands that the mother and father's room should be restful, isolated.

The day may have been of the kind, during the leaden passage of which:-

(1) Nanny has broken the bathroom window.

(2) A child has broken the only torch in the house.

(3) Another child has knocked over the drawing room standard lamp and broken that.

(4) The wireless won't go.

(5) The coal hasn't come.

(6) In which Cook has smashed the family heirloom china teapot;

that it is time to retire upstairs.

The Family are no longer seen through a glamorous glow of love.

Temporarily they have become one vast juggernaut of selfishness.

The Owner probably feels,

"Why should I work so hard just for them to make me pay out for their needless carelessness?"

The Owner's Wife thinks, "They just take it for granted that I am there to clean up the mess."

That is the time when a bare, almost austere room would be the wish of some folk. Straight, calm, unpatterned hangings, or a horizontal stripe on them to remind you of the peace of a horizon.

No ornaments or pictures, nothing that anyone can break. A shaded bed lamp, a bed turned down invitingly, a glass of hot milk or whatever one likes best by the bed, to fool oneself that someone has placed it there for you and is looking after you for a change.

A restful book with rather a long space between each full stop, the print dancing before your eyes, the intrusion of absurd, dream-thoughts between you and the printed story, the brain taking charge, and creating an entirely different story to the one you are reading, a golden haze enveloping you - almost, but not quite, you are asleep.

The Family Weekend Book - Beryl Irving

The Reader by Henry A. Payne

Garden chutney

There was a tempting array of chutneys and pickles in Bill's at the weekend

but I remembered that

this little lot was waiting for me at home

and it would be flying in the face of all

the grow-your-own, cook-your-own exhortations

(even if you only have a window box -

am I the only person to find this a mite hard to take

from people pushing groaning wheelbarrows of basil around their rolling acres? )

not to turn them into

glutney.

It took a while.

Well all afternoon actually,

and now it is too dark to show you the money shots.

Still too dark in the morning so had to crank up the exposure.

Whirlygig

Many hours in the garden today,

returning the abundant but spent growth back to the soil,

via compost heaps,

which first had to be emptied

into raised beds that had to be repaired.

I paused just long enough to rescue these from the tangle

to give them a last chance to shine.

Meanwhile, waiting impatiently in the wings,

the Paperwhites have put on extraordinarily rapid growth

in just one week.

Could everything just slow down a bit,

I'm feeling quite giddy.

On October 2nd the newsreader announced at 6 a.m that it was

November 2nd

and no one corrected him.

Merry Christmas everyone.

The most beautiful vineyard in Britain

is Breaky Bottom.

And that is where we were this blustery October day,

just two weeks before the harvest,

visiting the wonderful vintner and raconteur, Peter Hall

and tasting his 2005 and 2006 vintages.

The new attraction this year is Conrad,

their Bengal kitten

looking uncannily like the cats in this post.

Full of fizz.

Picture Post October 2nd 1943

So glad my copy of Picture Post has arrived on time.

Perhaps you'd like to look over my shoulder.

I'll make us a lovely cup of OXO

(it's off ration you know).

And luckily because we're in the Southern Counties

I can offer you a slice of my Mars bar to go with it.

If you'd care to stay for supper

I'm going to try these super Cheese Chops.

I say old thing, you're looking a bit queasy,

have you got one of your sick headaches coming on?

I've got just the thing for it.

Or one of these marvellous little pink tablets?

Oh look! If you've 9d to spare,

you could send orf for Mr Willi's leaflet.

I hadn't liked to say anything before, but as we're such old friends,

I feel I must.

It's just that in these hard pressed times

it's really our duty to look as dainty as possible,

and my dear, your nose...

well it's not classical is it?

And there's only so much you can do with coupons.

You've been frightfully brave trying to conceal that high forehead with them,

but a nose needs a professional...

well at least think about it.

Postscript: Actually setting aside easy amusement at 'quaint' advertising, I have been thinking about that last one, and as the possessor of a less than classically 'correct' nose and sticky out ears, I am chastened to see how Mr C.H. Willi's offer to remedy 'facial defects' reads, particularly in the context of World War II, and how little has changed.

His pitch may be shockingly frank to our modern ears,

in its promise of an appearance of culture (whose?)

and high breeding (really?),

but the message is as clear now as then.

Uniformity = beauty = better.

A blog of delightful suggestions

More delightful suggestions from

Something to Do

coming up.