Yes, the long summer holidays are drawing to a close, marked by the last Bank Holiday of the year. Nothing now until Christmas, which I suppose still counts as this year, but it feels like next.
Anyway, traditionally the last summer Bank Holiday in the UK is wet, windy and cold. This year it’s merely a little chilly, but with bright patches of sunshine can even be classed as warm at times.
With such clement weather, and with youngest daughter home for a day or two, naturally we decided to go blackberrying. It’s what you do on late summer Bank Holidays in the country.
We collected several freezer bags of blackberries (OK, the bags were small, but who’s counting?) a good many scratches from brambles, stings from nettles, close encounters with distinctly unfriendly branches whipping back into our faces, and a thorough soaking from the one short shower which was enough to drench us. So we were happy.
Fortuitously, we met with a friend en route who has a tree laden with so many pears she doesn’t know what to do with them, so we collected a back pack of pears too.
Anyone got any recipes for pears and blackberries? Bung it method preferred. Or I could just throw them all in the freezer.
Summer tends to be visiting time in Norfolk. We’ve had two lots of visitors, and have some more arriving on Friday, although that one is only a flying visit involving lunch.
It’s lovely to see them all, and we’ll settle down soon for another year sans visitors.
We’ve been a bit unsettled lately because we’ve recently been told that Ed has to go into hospital soon for major surgery. His aortic aneurysm — we’ve been living with that for around five years — has reached the stage where it needs to be repaired. This involves endless pre-surgery trips to the hospital for various tests, so that the surgical team can decide the best approach.
All somewhat disturbing, but thank goodness for the National Health Service – I can’t begin to imagine the cost if we had to pay – and it’ll be lovely when it’s all over and we can stop worrying about whether the wretched aneurysm is going to burst.
On a happier note, we had an mini Antique Road Show at the church this morning. A local valuer gave his time to value antiques brought by local people. Ed and I confirmed that nothing we have is worth a bean!
It was an excellent morning, and the church had put on a fascinating local history display to entertain people while they waited for their turn.
And the rain didn’t start until this evening!
It has to be Murphy’s Law.
Today our rector, Paul, went on holiday leaving me to take the Sunday services and the Wednesday Communions for the next couple of weeks. He hadn’t had a funeral for several weeks, and there were none in the pipeline.
Just before lunch I had a call from the funeral directors. An elderly lady has died, and the family would like the funeral to be next Friday. How’s that for Murphy’s Law?
Since I retired, I’ve got out of the way of being constantly on the alert for funerals and juggling my time around them. It took a while today to decide how I could manage to shuffle my engagements without giving them up altogether, but I think I’ve done it. Now all that remains is to contact the family (they were out when I rang the first time and engaged when I rang the second time, but third time lucky, I hope) visit them to ascertain what they would like at the funeral, sort out an organist, prepare the service, write the oration, and deliver it all.
Tomorrow I’m taking three services, and the Communion service on Wednesday is followed by some guests (who also rang up today) coming unexpectedly for lunch.
And on Monday, which happens to be our wedding anniversary, I’m going to the hospital with Ed to find out whether – or when – they are going to repair his aortic aneurysm.
Don’t you just love retirement? It’s so restful with nothing to do.