Linings 2

I have a new ironing board cover.

It's white.

So far, so mundane.

But before I fitted it, I took the old beige one off.

Underneath that was a large flowery cover.

Underneath that was a small flowery cover.

Underneath that was a geometric patterned cover.

And underneath that should have been

a  secret envelope full of crackly money

like this:

because of this story.

 Linings have always held a special fascination for 

this closet exhibitionist.

(Pun not intended.)

Let's take a stroll through the coat cupboard

on a drizzly grey reversion to a typical British summer's day.

 Persephone Books had my number when they

introduced their silky grey jackets

with beautiful endpapers

taken from contemporaneous textiles.

The matching bookmarks are a

bonus hidden pleasure.

Perhaps the equivalent of a matching handkerchief

or hair ribbon.

Showtime

The phormium ,

sprawling

in a neglected spot

by the fence

has quite unexpectedly,

seized centre stage.

I was transfixed.

Our favourite walk summer blockbuster

A hot Saturday filled with fretful neighbourhood noises

and the detritus of recent decorating work

prompted a late decision

to head off to our favourite walk.

It is a long drive, but the promise of skylark's song

instead of screaming children,

the honeyed scent of downland flowers

instead of barbeque fuel fumes, 

and a whispering wind,

instead of whining strimmers 

was promised.

But our favourite walk had a strange new story to tell.

As we approached,

a fine grey mist drifted across the view.

It thickened.

Muffled.

Stilled.

Chilled.

(We wished we'd brought jumpers.)

Leached.

Obliterated.

 Now look east.

Paragliders are hurling themselves into the blue.

Oblivious.

Follow them.

Better?

Look back.

Look up.

Watch the light show.

Look down.

Look North.

Eat here.

Wait for

the happy ending.

Backson

Semi comatose

Would you care to see what the sky was doing at 4 a.m?

Let me show you.

A son flying to Istanbul

provided the photo opportunity.

Luckily my Pilates class, five hours later, 

started with group yawning,

then some lying down

on our fronts,

our backs,

and

our sides.

More effort may have been hoped for,

but really

breathing sideways into my ribs

was all the exertion I was capable of.

Rus in urbe 2

We often drive past 
a large triangle of rather prosaic common land

bordered on all sides by busy roads.

You might see people playing football or walking their dogs

but it has never presented itself as a worthwhile destination.

Last night, in search of the last drop of sunshine

we decided to stop and now I wish we had thought to do so sooner,

for we discovered that the scruffy outskirts 

conceal a series of beautifully planned,  

planted,

and tended

gardens.

 Just as we were in danger of believing we had escaped
through a wormhole into Peckham's pastoral past,

a gap in the trees revealed,

this 21st century vista.

 Perfectly possible to believe though, that William Blake saw,

' a tree filled with angels, 

bright angelic wings bespangling every bough like stars.'
while visiting Peckham in 1767.

Going out with a bang

We've had a lovely last week at school -

the ceremonies,

the (short) speeches, 

the Leavers' Ball, 

the concerts, 

the tea in the marquee,

the firework concert,

the picnic

all in brilliant sunshine 

and

even though

I forgot to put new batteries

in my camera

I won't forget a minute of it.

Bowing out

After twelve years

with this great teacher and friend

we reached the final lesson tonight.

It started here -

and finished with this.

It seems to me that a spirited Prelude 

in a sad key perfectly represents

my mixed feelings about this stage of life

which is all about endings and beginnings.

Rachmaninov composed this at the age of 19.

O. will play it at his Leavers' concert tomorrow aged 18.

Our Broad Beans

but Our Being Abroad for one week this summer

is suddenly in jeopardy.

The house owner says she hasn't received our payment.

Impossible says our Bank.

It has gone.

It has had more than enough time to arrive.

Tell them to check again.

Righty ho. 

I'll add that to the list.