Avoiding the cup final

A glass of chilled wine as the breeze picks up and the evening cools. It’s been hot today. I’ve drunk more than two litres of water, and shall drink more before I sleep. I am going for an early night. MasterB is currently stretched out on the bed, enjoying the air coming through the open door. Last night it was quite busy here, and I had already cleaned my teeth when he let me know that it was quiet enough for a perambulation. So I carried him ashore rather than risk my heart lurching as he leapt from the front of the boat, and once I’d got him in his harness we perambulated. Actually we stayed still for quite a lot of the time. Cats seem to like to drink in their surroundings, it’s quite boring when you are at the other end of the leash. Then there are spurts of activity, determined movements in directions I do not want to go. I hoped he’d have a poo, or at least a pee, but he saved the latter until he was back on board. I just hope he isn’t saving the poo for the journey home.

Toady, when it has been hot, he has spent most of his time under the rug in the forecabin, a rug that is supposed to save the upholstery from fur and claws. Sometimes he and I are not on the same page. The forecabin was bathed in sunshine. Surely it must have been horribly hot, but he stayed there until around five this evening, when he emerged, like Mole taking a break from spring cleaning, and blinked dazedly about him.

Shamed by my new neighbours (who set off after breakfast and have not been seen since), I felt I had to do some boat cleaning. The hot sun soon had my face running with sweat. Not wanting to disturb the grebes I didn’t want it to use the water pump and power hose. So my efforts, which were mighty but without great results, came to an end after an hour, and I retreated to the shower. I had already visited the big city, well a large village, and bought my newspaper, so after an early lunch I reclined and worked my way through pages of newsprint.

I knew, indeed how could I not? that Donald J Trump is coming to London this week. What I had not understood was how many members of his family he is bringing with him. This is less a state visit, more an invasion. I do hope they all have return tickets. Prince Charles and Camilla seem to have drawn the short straw and are spending a lot of time with Family Trump. I worked with a Trump supporter last week, and one day was enough to exhaust me. Continue reading

A Visit to Aunt Before Christmas

I’ll try taking a picture of her tomorrow and you’ll see her smile is just the same, but I thought I could see the skull beneath the skin before, yet when I first saw her today I was shocked.

 

Hours in her company have done their work and now I see she’s still Aunt, but I do wonder how much longer she can continue like this. She’s wrapped in layers of warm clothing, the central heating supplemented by a clever Dyson machine her friend gave her. I brought various fruit juices for her to try. The anti sickness tablets are helping her to keep food down, but as she explained, she isn’t much interested in eating or drinking. I think she’s shutting down. Certainly she is sleeping much more, and her mind is not so clear. She is forgetful, muddled. But that doesn’t stop her being independent.

 

Maybe my opinion will change tomorrow, but tonight I am wondering if this is the last time I shall see her. A good friend of hers who is also frail will spend Christmas Day with her. There will be visits from members of her church who have stayed loyal to her over these months when she has been unable to attend. She hasn’t written any cards, and she hasn’t put up the ones she has received.

Continue reading

Of Heat, Colds, Lemsip and Hollyhocks

Most unseasonably, and on the hottest day of the year (which came as a surprise to me, as I am sure I heard it would be cooler today) I have spent the day growing a heavy cold. My head feels uncomfortably full of unfriendly aliens. I ahve aches and pains in places I usually don’t notice.
So no gin and tonic for me tonight, and not just because I’m not very fond of it, a cup of Lemsip. Very rock ‘n’ roll. Continue reading

Gabriel at the Globe

Just home from the Globe where it was the first night of a new play, featuring music by Purcell, called Gabriel.
Let me say straight off that the music is fabulous, there was some great acting, comic and poignant moments. But it wasn’t Shakespeare. Obvious I know, but when a theatre is so associated with the work of someone acknowledged as the finest writer in the English language, it is a pretty big ask of any other writer to come up with something in any way comparable. And don’t say Racine or Corneille. Good playwrights both, but it’s only the French who write books comparing them to Bill S. they are not in the same league. No one is.
I love seeing Shakespeare’s plays performed at the Globe, even the unbelievably bloody and violent Coriolanus a few years back. There is something seeing his plays in this theatre that is just magical. And the ending is always spectacular and heart lifting and joyous. Continue reading

Hot Cat?

I’ve been out out work since just before ten this morning. Cat, who had been in the garden, came in and settled to sleep on my bed, just before I left.  I got home at seven this evening, and he slept on. Most unusual. I think his hearing may be diminishing, so I went up to him and said hello – well gave him a kiss actually. He opened his eyes, stretched and remained on the bed. Continue reading