Ed and I have had such a lovely day. We drove over to Fi and Stu’s, where four-year-old granddaughter was splashing about naked in their inflatable “swimming pool”. She was having a wonderful time, and since the temperature today has been 30 degrees, it was probably the best place to be.
Fi wanted to take us into Bury St Edmunds, where a whole new shopping complex has been opened. Our granddaughter suggested a picnic in the Abbey gardens, which was a great idea.
Off we went, found a shady spot under a spreading chestnut tree (or something), strangely enough overlooking the children’s play area. Granddaughter soon made lots of friends and had a whale of a time.
After lunch we ambled around the new shops. Fi bought a pair of shoes (with four inch stilettos) and I bought a bolero and a pair of shoes (without four inch stilettos).
Then it was a frappé in an air-conditioned café before driving home.
It’s been a really great day.
I hope everyone who celebrates it, had a really good fourth of July. It was a hot day here again (which means it was in the 70s) and I’d burned across my shoulders the day before, so spent yesterday indoors.
It’s this new dress, see. Ed and I have ruby wedding coming up next month, which we’re celebrating with over sixty friends and family, so I bought a new dress for the occasion. Yes, it’s red. No, I don’t usually wear dresses – happier in jeans.
So I tried the dress on again, just to make sure I could still squeeze into it, and discovered I resembled a Neapolitan ice-cream – mahogany arms, face and tiny V of neck from playing golf in a polo shirt, then a layer of coffee on my upper arms (shorter sleeves in some shirts than others) and pasty white on top of upper arms and around rest of neck. Not nice. I had to do something.
I sat in the garden for a couple of hours on Saturday morning, until the laptop battery died, then maybe another hour later until it was too hot to breathe, but discovered in the evening that perhaps it was a smidgeon too long.
I’m now mahogany, coffee and scarlet.
Still not nice.
…from Wimbledon. It’s one of the great moments in the British sporting calendar (hang on a moment. Match point against Federer requires concentration – okay, it’s back to deuce!) especially as our Andy Murray is through to the quarter finals. No British male has won Wimbledon since the days of Fred Perry, and even I don’t remember him!
Second match point coming up. Wow! he’s done it! Federer is out. That’s amazing! And I don’t even know the other fellow’s name.
Our British sport hasn’t been up to much this summer. The media hype over the football world cup had to be seen to be believed, and then we bowed out with ignominy almost as soon as we’d got to South Africa.
Justin Rose won the Memorial golf tournament in America, then led for the first three rounds of the Traveler’s, only to lose it in the final round and finish ninth.
Oh well. It’s playing the game that counts, isn’t it? And someone has to be down there propping up the winners. It’s just not such a comfortable place to be, but it may be character-building. Or not.
What do you think?
This was a wonderful surprise, a blast from the past.
There we were, quietly watching the golf from America on TV, when the phone rang. It was friends we haven’t seen for nearly twenty years, even though we live in the same county.
“Just on the off chance,” they said, “are you free tomorrow night? ‘Cos we’re barbecuing and we’d like you to come over.”
We were free and we went. They’ve moved since we saw them last and now live in a lovely old farmhouse in forty acres of their own ground where Heidi is a horse trader and looker-after (fifteen horses at the moment) and David pastures cattle for the farmer next door.
Their place is beautiful; a wonderful garden with a large, natural pond stocked with fish, their own water supply from a bore hole, and a delightful, soppy rescue dog, a cross between a setter and a retriever.
We had such a good evening, sitting out in the garden, catching up on the years (and wondering where they’ve all gone!) Years ago we used to meet up and joke about going into an old people’s home together and livening it up, never imagining that we’d actually ever get old.
Happy times. It’s a good job every age has something to recommend it, and this present age brings us memories to savour. It was great.
…but not necessarily great weather.
My brother and his wife came over from America last week, bringing their eight-year-old grandson. They arrived at Heathrow on Wednesday morning and came up to see us on Friday.
When the little lad climbed out of the car he said, “Is it winter here?”
He could be forgiven for thinking that. On Sunday I was back into a polo neck sweater, a woollen cardigan and a gilet, and was only just warm enough.
Today we’ve been sweltering on the golf course, with temperatures forecast to rise to 30 degrees by Sunday.
Watching Wimbledon at the moment. Andy Murray has just won his match – hooray – and that marathon match of 59 all in the final set from last night is set to continue any time now.
After that I’m off for a wedding rehearsal prior to the wedding on Saturday, which is rather nice since weddings won’t come my way too often now that I’m retired.
Oh, and I’ve just started writing the third novel, so plenty going on.
Great days!