Blues and Greys

A bright and breezy morning, but the temperature only crawled up to about 7 degrees centigrade. However, the Northerly wind has made it feel much, much colder. The sort of cold that reminds you of the existence of hat, scarf and gloves.









The morning was spent preparing for children's clubs and making invitations for the next afternoon Tea Service on November 8th (blatant plug).
The washing was out where washing should be, line dancing in the breeze. I decided that as it was such good drying weather, that I would wash the bathroom mats. Being rubber backed they take ages to dry, unless there is a suitable wind to aid their drying.

They were duly hung out and I carried on with my preparation. About ten minutes later I looked out across from my vantage point at the kitchen table, and I noticed something falling from the sky.
"Is that dust or fine rain?" 
"Where?" enquired DH.
"Look at the trees. Something is falling, but the ground isn't getting wet."
We decided that it was very, very fine rain, but we weren't entirely sure.
I checked the app on my phone. Rain was forecast. Rats.
Dilemma. I could bring in the washing and dry it indoors, or leave it outside and gamble that the wind would dry the washing faster than the rain could make it wet.
The clouds were scudding across the sky as if pursued by a horde of frantic bargain hunters.
I gambled and left the washing outside.
Ten minutes later a mini deluge occured.
Great!

Around 5pm I cut my losses and went to fetch the washing in. I picked up the wash basket from the chair on the patio where I had abandoned it. I swung the basket in an arc to remove any water that may have accumulated, but instead of flowing in a smooth trajectory across the lawn, the rainwater deposited itself all over me. I quickly attempted to shake the water off before it had time to soak in, but I was too late. I could feel the icy coldness of the water reaching my skin. From his vantage point, behind the kitchen window, DH watched on with bemused amusement. Cheers dear!

The washing that was dry was hung inside the airing cupboard. The rest was draped artistically over an airer in the spare room, to receive the gentle ministrations of the dehumidifier  - which was DH's surprise Christmas present to me about five years ago. It was an unexpected gift, but it has proved to be a very practical present and I do not restrict its use to the drying of my clothes only. It is good to share...

Sunny Monday

As if to try and prove my complaints to be unjustified, this Monday was bright and sunny, in complete contrast to the previous one!
"Shall we go to the Cotswolds?" I suggested.
"How about going to Hidcote?" came the reply. And so we did.
It was a perfect Hidcote sort of day, with plenty of sunshine to showcase the flowers and gently illuminate the autumn foliage.

Having visited reception we crossed the lane to enter the gardens.
My fellow traveller received a phone call.
Fortunately, her mobile had reception in the entrance courtyard.
Unfortunately, one of the guides was trying to give 'a very important talk' in the only place with phone signal, and did NOT appreciate the competition.
Sometimes phone calls are important. Life doesn't stop just because you are visiting a National Trust property.

I missed all that particular drama, as I had continued on and was gazing over a wall and was trying to decide if the mound just inside the line of trees on the left side of the avenue, was a piece of root or a sleeping sheep. It didn't move while I was watching, so I came to the conclusion it was probably just part of the root. If you are trying to work out where I was looking, it was the bit where the leaves lie golden on the ground.



I wandered on into the first section of the garden, taking photos of the foliage, before finding a bench is a sunny spot to sit and appreciate the beauty of this autumn garden.

I didn't have long to wait. Having concluded her guide-annoying conversations, my fellow travellor rejoined me.
We continued our garden explorations, choosing the quieter pathways.






The reflections from the pool were very clear.















We paused close to the viewpoint at the top of the garden, to delight in the view across the adjacent farmland. A panorama of peacefulness.

We toured the gardens. At one point we came back into signal range.
Another failed phone conversation, but there were no guides around to annoy.

We wandered pathways,
found ourselves in dead ends
and retraced our steps.

Another call.
Some issues can be resolved,
others must take their course.
I was just glad to be out in the sunshine.

I wandered on through the wood on the way to the kitchen garden, pausing to take the obligatory tree top shot...

We attempted to beat the lunchtime rush at the cafe, and failed.
Despite choosing to eat indoors, my fellow travellor suffered a painful encounter with a wasp - they take exception at being squashed, even if it was accidental!

After lunch, we returned to the kitchen garden, and then admired the twisted shadows of the apple trees in the orchard.

In the gift shop, I spent the princely sum of £1.25. Sorry, NT, you need to vary the stock more if you want to tempt me to part from more of my money...

As Monday's go, this one was rather perfect. Not sure the grumpy guide would agree though...

Ash Tomatoes?

Some people never learn.
It would appear that I am one of them.
After yesterday's escapades with the laundry, you would have thought I would have learnt my lesson, but no. Having caught up with the bedding and towels I decided to try my luck with the clothing.
Imagine my total delight, when I discovered that in one day DH had consigned two of his new tops to the washing. Admittedly, the one he wore on the smouldering allotment was a tad smelly, but I am not sure being worn for a couple of hours in a ringing chamber qualified the second top for the wash.
When DH realised that I was doing more laundry, he did a progress check on his new clothing.
"Did you find my new tops in the wash basket?"
"Yes, I was doubly blessed."
"Good, cos I shall need one tomorrow. It will be dry by then, won't it...?
I wanted him to like the new clothing, but this was getting a bit intense!

It was a beautiful October afternoon. 

Despite having a sermon to finish, the computer to set up, 

and a thousand and one other jobs to do, 

the KHT and I decided to go for a walk, 

as there were some items that required delivering.

As we wandered down the road I silently wondered how many trees she could identify. 

As if she read my mind she suddenly piped up

"That tree is a beech." 

In case you are wondering, it certainly was.

The KHT then correctly identified the subsequent tree as well, but I cannot remember what that one was. 

Her face lit up with delight as she regarded the next one.

"We used to have one of these back at our old house!" she recalled fondly.

"Do you remember where in the garden it was?"

"Yes, it was by the deck."

She was correct.

There had been a similar tree at the very top of the garden.

"Is it an ash?" she asked.

"No, but the leaves are similar. Look at the berries..."

"Ash tomatoes!" she declared.

"It's a rowan, and those are rowan berries."

We paused to read the sign outside a shop, before heading off in search of bears and other Pokemon characters,

When we were almost home we diverted to see DH on his allotment, 

and admire the reconstructed polytunnel

which had been damaged during one of the recent storms.

DH loves spending time on his allotment. 

It is like a real-life version of Farmville, 

but he can harvest his own crops, 

instead of nagging me to!

This was the view from the topless fruit cage, which is also currently undergoing repairs.

We left him weeding around his gooseberries, whilst I returned to wrestle with this week's thorny topic - the Garden of Eden, as I gazed out over our autumnal garden. 

The garden furniture has migrated from the lawn to the patio.

A vase of honesty seed heads has been placed upon it. 

As I gazed at the sun shining through the translucent seedheads, 

it occurred to me that it was as if the smoke from the bonfires had returned to haunt me once more.

There are pockets of paradise to be found.

We are surrounded by beauty. 

Although I lament the passing of summer, 

I have to admit that autumn is an incredibly beautiful season.

Smoke Signals

October heralds the start of the smoke season on the nearby allotments where DH has a plot. During the summer months, bonfires are banned to allow local residents to use their gardens, open their windows and dry laundry, without fear of being smoked out.

It was a beautiful sunny autumn Friday, perfect drying weather.
I am home alone, catching up on paperwork and laundry.
DH is pottering on his allotment.
The load containing beddings reaches an impressive crescendo, before staggering to a halt. The machine gives an irritating series of beeps to notify me that the cycle is complete.
Right on cue smoke arises from the allotments.
To make matters worse it is from DH's plot! Grrrr!
I send him a text containing a sound file of the washing machine beep.
Then I send him a second and third for good measure.
"Nothing arriving" comes the reply
"Sound files!" I retort.
I phone him. It is easier than yelling and more discrete...
"If you are going to send me a message, send me a message!" 
"I did!"
"Well, all I got was a series of beeps!" came the somewhat bewildered reply.
"Don't you recognise the sound of your own washing machine?" I ask,"I am waiting to hang the laundry out, when the smoke finally abates!"
Actually, the recording on the phone sounds nothing like the washing machine, but I do not mention that fact, as it weakens my case."
"It's nearly done" he replies.

After lunch, the washing machine is put through its revolutions for a second time. DH returns to de-weeding his fruit cages. The machine finishes, just as smoke arises from DH's allotment once again.
I text him a picture of the offending smoke with a cheery message
"I am watching"
"It started spontaneously!" he claimed later.
I was unconvinced.
During the afternoon, I fit in half an hour of garden pottering.
Moving some of the plants from the bed adjacent to the patio, in preparation for the planned redesign.
The bed is over 6 foot deep, and slopes awkwardly towards the garage.
The plants that are in it are too big and completely obscure the planters at the back of the bed.
Colourful, it may be, but it is too chaotic and requires a rethink.



Meanwhile, on the other side of the garden, the winter-flowering Jasmine is already putting on a good show, before the last of the summer flowers have finished.
I find some lower branches that have rooted and move them to other parts of the garden.
They may take, if they don't I will try again.
Self-set climbing nasturtiums add extra unexpected colour.

I log on to Facebook. A meme comes up of a horror scene with the request to post the last text you sent. I obediently post
"I am watching." as that was the last one I sent, which was to DH, objecting to his bonfire.
In this context, it felt a tad macabre, but strangely fitting!

I brought the washing in.
The oak trees do a good job of shielding us from the worst of the smoke. Occasionally we have to close the vents if the wind is towards the back of the house, but it is not often.
I would rather have the allotments than more housing.
Don't tell DH, but I quite like watching the smoke, but I prefer the more genteel plumes rising artistically towards the heavens, to a billowing mass...

Later, long after DH has left his allotment, smoke arises from his bonfire once again.
This time I definitely know it isn't him, as he is the other side of town.
Sometimes we can misread smoke signals even if we think the evidence is compelling...

Longbridge Loot

On Thursday morning we discovered the great household milk shortage, as DH was about to take part of the last can of milk off to church for coffee. This was particularly irritating as he had only been shopping the previous evening, but as he has given up milk it didn't occur to him to check if we needed more.
" I will probably come home via Tesco and get some more milk from there..." I sighed, with feeling. "And I don't want the leftovers back!" 
I hate milk that has not been kept cold, as it makes me feel nauseous.
"There's enough left to last you till tomorrow!" replied DH, unrepentantly.

I didn't come home past Tesco, so I failed to get any milk. All was not lost though, as that afternoon I had the opportunity to go to Longbridge M&S in a second attempt to get some new trousers.
Many of the older M&S stores are chaotic multi-floored affairs.
Longbridge it is different - clean, bright, spacious, contemporary, but they have retained the chaotic feel to ensure that we feel at home in the new store. However, there is no such thing as a 'trousers section', they are indiscriminately scattered in clumps though out ladieswear.
Forget shopping, this is more like a lucky dip safari, but without the land rovers.
I found myself wondering what I would discover, deep in the jungle of Longbridge ladies wear...

View from  the car park landing

However, we began our shopping on the upper floor in menswear, as DH had requested some sports tops.
We found suits, tee shirts, chinos, sweaters...
"Maybe they are down with woman's sportswear on the ground floor..." I suggested.
A passing sales assistant was flagged down
"I have no idea," was his apologetic reply, "I only work in the cafe."
A second, suited sales assistant was hailed
"It is activewear," he explained, "It's on the way into men's wear" and duly led us to the trio of rails adjacent to the escalator, presumably positioned ready for a rapid getaway...
I selected a long-sleeved sports t-shirt, which would offer protection for his arms when he is working on his allotment, and a short-sleeved version for bellringing.

Then we moved downstairs in search of ladies trousers.
After we had wandered aimlessly around in circles, we were rescued by a knowledgeable sales assistant, who guided us to the right part of ladieswear, before breaking the news that my favourite style of trousers had been deleted. How rude!
My fellow shopper mentioned the 'petite' section, for vertically challenged shoppers.
"I am afraid that has been deleted too!"  she announced sadly.
Apparently, they get many requests each day, from ladies searching for shorter legged ladies trousers.
Given the average height for a woman is 5ft 3, and that people shrink as they get older, I think M&S are in denial as to who is going to shop in its stores - well, shop in the stores that are still open...
I tried on five pairs and purchased three.  That will keep me going for a while...

We popped out to Mountain Warehouse, in search of socks... I found another top for DH.
Next stop, M&S Food Hall.

DH has been suffering horribly with hives, possibly triggered by scratching his arms whilst trimming the hedge. For over a week DH has been on a very limited diet in a bid to manage the cause of the irritation and he had requested some alternative fodder, as he was getting pretty bored with turkey and rice or rice and lamb.
We tracked down broccoli couscous (reduced), cauliflower couscous, dairy free spread, dairy-free cheese and some goats milk. Meanwhile, cannelloni, lasagne, scotch eggs and an advent calendar fell into the trolly for the KHT.

We finally arrived back at the car, shopping bags bulging
"Did you get milk for yourself?"
"Rats!"
Quickly returning to the food hall, I opted for the staircase. Not wishing to wait for the lift, even though it probably was quicker. I speedily purchased the milk and returned to the car park.

When we returned home DH was pleased with the array of food and the t-shirts. The KHT was pleased with the Advent Calendar, but disappointed that Jesus featured once again, instead of The Simpsons or Garfield.
"We don't celebrate the advent of the Simpsons or Garfield. The clue is in the name..."

Just Another Monsoon Monday.

Mondays are not working days for me, instead, my week begins on a Tuesday. It is frustrating to note how many Mondays are wet, with the following morning dawning bright and sunny. I chose to not keep a tally. It would be far too depressing!

This week was no exception. According to the app on my phone, we were in for a wet day with a high probability of the rain persisting until teatime. That effectively ruled out visiting anywhere outdoors. We didn't want to venture too far, so Touchwood won the vote, just because we couldn't think of anywhere better. This was a rather begrudging kind of victory for Solihull, or Soily Hill as it was before it got poshed up, from the pigsty on the hill, to the land of middle-class mock Tudor mini-mansions. Just one of the consequences of the wealth brought to the Midlands by the motor industry, during the previous century.

Given the weather, we opted for the cross-country route, via Dickens Heath - a strange modern dormitory village of high-density housing 3 miles from 'Soily Hill' town centre.
We often lose our way travelling through this urban village, as signs are both minimal and ambiguous.
Dickens Heath always feels slightly sinister, either as if rapture has just taken place, or if you are under the control of some unseen authority that logs your every movement. All I know is that the streets are always eerily empty. On a miserable Monday morning, it looked even worse than usual...

It was not going to be an exciting day, and we set the tone by looking at kitchen compost bins. What better place to do so than 'Soily Hill'. Our receptacle for fruit and veg waste is starting to look rather shabby - not helped by the fact that I have dropped the lid at least once.
In our previous home, I delighted in my waste disposal unit. I used to regularly inflict healthy fruit salads on my husband, just for the sheer delight of hearing peach stones being macerated.
To my regret, our current abode does not have a waste disposal unit. Instead, we have two large green composting bins hidden behind the garage, where flies and worms lurk, ready to ambush and terrify me. Much as I hate these wildlife infested caverns, I have to admit that they do produce very good compost - useful for adding to the clay in the garden. We found a suitable kitchen compost bin, but we weren't tempted enough to buy it today.
Retail draw.

For some light relief, we moved down to the toy department - always a good place to find a present for some unsuspecting relative (mentioning no Doris').
Retail success!

By now it was lunchtime. We had planned to revisit the tearooms we discovered on our last jaunt. However, the thought of going out in the rain and negotiating the High Street, did not appeal. We were just pondering where we could go instead, when we remembered that there is a mysterious tentacle of the Touchwood Shopping Centre, that by some fluke of geography, stretches down to just behind the tearoom we had intended to visit. This would reduced the outside squelch to 50 yards, rather than 400. We could cope with 50 yards of raindrop assault.

Next on the agenda was socks, but my fellow shopper wanted a particular brand, and the outdoor shops we visited didn't seem to stock them.
Retail fail.

Then I remembered that I really could do with some new trousers, so we headed off to M & S. Back in the day, before M & S abandoned our nearest town centre, I knew exactly which rail to walk up to, and which style to pick. Solihull is a bit more chaotic. I grabbed a few and headed off to the changing rooms. There was a queue, and customer service paralysis, so I was directed to the changing rooms on the ground floor - which were pleasantly almost devoid of customers.
"No-one knows we are here!" confessed the assistant, sadly.
I tried on several pairs, but none of them were quite right. I left them with the lonely assistant.
However, I did find a sports top I liked, even though I don't do sports. They make a great wardrobe choice for ringing sessions, as they stretch, are lightweight and breathe - all useful attributes.
Sort of retail success...

Upon reaching the exit of M & S we realised that the heavens had opened big time. Serious stair rod sort of rain. We popped into nearby Boots in the vain hope that the deluge would have ceased by the time we were ready to move on - foolish optimists are we. The KHT has found some perfume she liked. At around £70 for a small bottle, I wasn't rushing to buy her any, but I did purchase some hand cream.
Retail fail and success!

We visited several more shops in the Mell Square area, using the wide overhang of the buildings to shelter from the worst of the rain. We never use the multi-storey car park adjacent to Mell Square, as the signage is awful. On several occasions have ended up in a dead end facing a brick wall, when attempting to depart.

The deluge had not abated, so we made a quick dash for The works to get some black paper for a craft activity. Fortunately, I decided that the craft activity wouldn't work before I bought the paper. However, I did buy a couple of odds and ends. Sort of retail success.

Soggy Solitary Solihull

The High street offered no protection from the rain, and there were several places where mini waterfalls from gutters had to be avoided. We retreated back inside the shopping centre and spent some time wandering around Tiger where I was able to make some pleasing purchases. Definite retail victory!

It was at this point in the proceedings that I remembered that I wanted some envelopes for work. Shops which came to mind that sold envelopes at a competitive price, were too many raindrops away, so we opted to divert to Tesco on the way home. Every little helps!
Retail failure and success.

A Rather Silly Idea?

As we stood in church chatting whilst clearing up after the Afternoon Tea Service, someone suddenly said.
"I've had a rather silly idea. Why don't we have Harvest Lunch in here, rather than in the hall?"
"I don't think that it a silly idea at all!" came the quick response, "In fact, I think it is a rather good idea! It would be a lot easier to set up."
"And it would leave the hall free for the children's groups."
"True..."
"We better check that the tables aren't needed in the hall between now and Sunday."

A couple of emails later and it was confirmed that the tables would not be required in the interim.

Meanwhile, we positioned the furniture in the church reflecting the Sunday service requirements of the congregation. Some need to be near the front and others backwards of the amplification system. This meant that we were able to set up tables in advance in two distinct areas - front left and back right. We would move the chairs back left after the service and put a large serving table in their stead. This would be easy to accomplish in a just a few minutes.

Sunday came and we 'entered his courts with praise', we 'gathered in', we brought items for the food bank and donated money to the Tsunami appeal. Then we had our annual Harvest bring and share lunch in church.

Was it a success?
Holding the lunch in church meant that we didn't impact the Children's Groups, which run in the adjacent hall during part of the morning service.
Neither did we have to wait until they had finished before we could set up, which meant that lunch underway a lot earlier.
It also saved us the dilemma of where to serve after church coffee - church or hall?
Another big plus was that we avoided the sound of children's footsteps on the wooden floor and subsequent reverberation around the hall. If you have ever been in our church hall whn two or three children run across it, you will know just how much of a blessing this was!
We have eaten in church before - Afternoon Tea Service to give one example - so there was a precedent to use the building in this way.
Clearing up was relatively simple. Once the tables were removed it was easy to hoover up any remaining detritus.
All in all, lots of positives, and folk seemed to be very happy with the arrangements.

One of the church members had kindly copied some Harvest word searches, but most of our young people prefer to draw their own pictures or play games of their own devising.
With hindsight, it would probably have been a good idea to have had a film on hand, for when smaller persons flagged, but their parents still wanted to chat and that is something we can consider for another time. We could also consider providing some simple craft activities

We innovate, improvise and reflect.
Sometimes silly ideas are just that. At other times they reap rewards that surprise us.

Crumbs!

"Make edible gardens," they said.
"It will be fun!" they said, 
"All they have to do is crush some biscuits, 
add some green coloured coconut for grass 

and decorate with some ready-made fondant icing. They can use flower cutters, 
or make their own decorations."
"I think I can manage that." I thought to myself,
"I mean it is not exactly cooking is it, 
more like playing with food..."














I looked at the equipment.
Hmmm!
This is all looking a bit serious!
A bit....gulp...domesticated!








Before I know it the doors open and I have my first batch of Messy Church goers, eager to make an edible garden.
The cookies are placed in the bag to be crushed, as directed.
Not having trialled this activity, I naively anticipated that a few revolutions of the rolling pin was all that would be required and the cookies would be transformed into a fine tilth.

In reality, after a couple of rolls of the rolling pin, the cookies resembled boulders rather than soil.
My landscape gardeners were unimpressed.
They upend the rolling pins and, without hesitation, pound the cookies into oblivion.

Prayer bubbles float serenely by,
chips are tested to see if they bend,
pots decorated and bulbs planted,
fruit kebabs are constructed,
collages are stuck.
Apart from the chatter of voices, all is calm.
Except at table two, where the now vertical rolling pins are smashing cookies to smithereens.
Each blow gives a distinct boom, as the end of the rolling pin hits the gopak table.
The resulting sound reverberates around the hall...




Once the children get the hang of what they are doing, they are amazingly creative - duck ponds, snakes, and animals of all descriptions are formed fondly from fondant.

If they wanted green fondant they mixed blue and yellow.
One child created a world,  from a mixture of blue and green fondant, which was very effective.










Others focused more on the symbolism of the garden.
Mind you, it would be pretty amazing, if a garden designer could recreate this design.















"Make edible gardens," they said.
"It will be fun!" they said.
And it was, but it was also fascinating to see their take on creation.

Tangoed!

Amazingly a month has passed since our first Afternoon Tea Service and on Thursday we held our second!
We knew in advance that about a quarter of those who attended the first, would not be able to join us on this occasion, for a whole variety of reasons.
Over fifty handmade invitations had been made and handed out, passed on or delivered to people with whom we had contact.

When talking to people in the church, we became aware that some people found it hard to know who to invite -  either because their friends are working in the afternoon, or need to collect children.
Others only really had contact with church people.
Someone else observed that it is risky to give an invitation, in case it is declined.
The assumption had been that it was easier to invite to an afternoon tea than to a service.
Interesting.

As we followed up on the invitations, people began to give their apologies and it felt a bit like the parable of the great banquet in Luke 14:15-24. However, this was what God had guided us to do, and we felt that it was very important particularly in the early days when the character of the Afternoon Teas was being shaped, that we didn't advertise by posters, but invited people with whom we had contact.

One lady took the opportunity to say how much she appreciated the hand-made invitation and how well the simple design worked.

For October, we had gone with an orange theme for Harvest and our focus was on creation. Each table had a stand bearing The Lord's Prayer and Grace, which we said together before the food was served. There were also some Table Topics, in case the conversation flaged. This month they were:-

• Favourite flower
• Least favourite vegetable
• Funniest garden disaster
• Something you grew

We also printed out some cartoons on the themes of Harvest and Creation and put those on the tables, which prompted some chuckles!

We try to vary the food that is on offer each month. Last time we had scones as our extra. This time we had halved plum tomatoes and sausage rolls.

I was rather amused to note that the cake and fruit plates followed the orange theme! A lovely happenstance, or was it?

The allotted time came, and people gradually began to arrive. At the first session, we had mainly restricted it to four chairs at a table. Observing the group dynamics, we reached the conclusion that some groups might work even better if there were five or six to a table. 

One person observed that there seemed fewer people, which was a shame. However, we were too busy in a whirl of filling teacups and passing round sandwiches and cakes to notice.  

As the takeaway gift this month we had hyacinth bulbs. However, because they had been placed at the front of the church out of the way, we completely forgot about them until half the folk had gone home! No worries, they will make great Harvest gifts for some of the folk we know.

During a brief lull when teacups were full and no plates required refilling, I sat down to enjoy a cup of coffee and some sandwiches. I took the opportunity to count heads. To my amazement there were twentyone people present. It looked less because there were more seated at each table! 

Later I said to one of the other helpers

"We had twenty-one, one more than last time!"

"Yes,  I know!" she replied with a big smile "I counted."

This meant that at least a quarter of those present were here for the first time.

Sometimes, what appears to be less, is more!

Ladies who make Afternoon Tea

  

Two out of Three aint Bad!

On Saturday morning I was at Inkberrow church, where the retired Bishop of Man and Sodor, Robert Paterson, ran an inspirational training session on the Liturgy of the Service of the Word, for Readers in the Diocese.

In the afternoon I had been roped in to take part in the Association interbranch bellringing competition at a church on the outskirts of Evesham.  I had arranged for DH to come and collect me, with the vague plan that we would fit in a short walk by the river in Evesham before the competition.

However, the weather on had turned cold and wet, so that put paid to that particular part of the plan.

With just over an hour before the competition, it wasn't worth going home, so we popped into Evesham Country Park. There was a shoe shop I thought DH might be interested in, but, to my surprise, he decided that he would prefer a cup of coffee.

DH ordered the coffee, but it was rather bitter. 

I prefer a rather mellower brew, so I won't rush back!

It was only a couple of miles to our next destination - the church at Great Hampton on the southern side of the river. We allowed a quarter of an hour - that should be plenty of time.

What could possibly go wrong?

Then just as we were heading into Evesham we spotted a sign.

"Road ahead closed"

Then I remembered from a visiting the town the previous Friday that there was something happening in the town this weekend.

"Arghhhhhhhh! It's the Evesham Mop!"

"What is that?" asked DH, in blissful ignorance.

"A fair in the centre of town. The main street is closed. I saw the sign last week, but I didn't realise that it would affect us today!"

We did the wise thing.

We followed the example of the rest of the traffic and turned off. However, that road took us towards Worcester. 

There is no other crossing point of the Avon in this direction until you reach Fladbury.

"We need to go round the ring road." I instructed DH.

And so we did, backtracking past the Country Park, as the clock continued to tick.

We finally reached at Great Hampton church a minute or so after the draw. We were not the last to arrive. Several others had also been caught on the hop by the Mop. 

Our team was scheduled to ring second. 

The judges were secluded in some part of the ground floor of the church, so all teams were instructed to silently tiptoe into the church, so that the judges would not know who was ringing. 

In reality, it is usually clear to everyone who the winners are, but it is good to have some judges to confirm the verdict.

Our practice session went well and we were feeling confident. This was very encouraging, as we were ringing Double Court Minor, a method we didn't know very well. In rehearsals it only had successfully come round once! 

Unfortunately, our test piece was not as good as the practice, but due to the skill of the conductor, it came round. Phew! 

We had no real expectation that we would win, as the third team were a much stronger band. Our only hope of victory was if they, like the first team, fired out. 

As I still had service prep to complete ahead of the service tomorrow morning, we left after that piece of ringing. 

Later I got the news on Whatsapp that we had come second in both the 6 and 8 bell competitions, with the Western branch being worthy winners of both. 

As I reflected on the result I was reminded of the words Meatloaf famously sang "Two out of three ain't bad!"

I can see clearly now...

Two weeks had passed since my visit to the opticians.

Overnight the optician's appointment card, that has sat happily on the shelf in the kitchen for the last two weeks, has magically disappeared.

Fortunately, DH had predicted this very happening and had made a note of my appointment time on his online diary.

As I injured my knee on Sunday, DH decided to take pity on me and use the car park closest to the opticians, rather than follow our normal custom and street park half a mile away. 

Only one problem. 

We haven't used this particular car park since Sainsbury's moved out of the shopping centre MANY years ago, and more importantly, since they started charging for parking.

When the car park was built, getting on for fifty years ago, cars were smaller. 

There was a clunk, as DH failed to clear the kerb of the unsympathetic right left-hand turn at the entrance to the car park. In celebration, he sailed right to the end of the first level.

"I think we should have gone 'up' there" I observed, helpfully, just after we passed the ramp.

We went down to the lower level. 

Ahead of us was the exit.

"Don't tell me there is no way 'up' again..." groaned DH.

"Never mind, there are plenty of spaces to park..."

We walked over to the stairwell. 

"The shops are on level 6" I announced.

"What!?"

I pointed to the sign.

There was no way I was hobbling all the way up six flights of stairs, so the lift it was. 

To access that I had to walk up to level Two, but I could manage that!

Oh my! If I described the lift as smooth I would be lying. 

Lift off began with a drunken lurch before the doors had even clanged fully closed. 

DH and I looked at each other, making a careful note of where the alarm button was.

The arrival at level six was equally clunky. 

We exited the lift quickly, with a collective sigh of relief.

We arrived at the opticians.

"Take a seat, there. " the assistant directed me, pointing to a seat facing the full height plate glass windows on to the shopping centre.

I. 

Felt. 

Like. 

A. 

Goldfish.

Why haven't they got any net curtains 

or window displays, 

or festoons 

or blinds...

window art, 

models...

anything?"

As I sat there, facing the world,  I started to count the number of people wearing glasses, compared to those who weren't...

"One, two, three, wearing glasses.

One not.

A couple both wearing glasses,

another not.

Three - two wearing glasses...

One, two, three, four, five not. Contact lenses are quite popular, aren't they..."

My glasses checked, arms adjusted, cleaner given.

"Just come back and get a refill when the bottle is empty," said the assistant.

"Did you have a leaflet about getting the lenses half price for a second pair of glasses?"

"No."  Then I remembered.

"Actually, I think the assistant told me about it, but I discounted it, as I have blown my whole budget on one pair of glasses and wouldn't be having a second pair."

As I wear my glasses all the time, when I have had a second pair of glasses, they were never worn. I got used to the first pair and the others never felt quite as comfortable. even though they were the same style and purchased at the same time.

Not wanting to end up going head first down the stairs in the car park, I chicken out of wearing the new glasses immediately and put my old battered, dirty, familiar pair on.

Twenty minutes later and DH is paying for the car park. He doesn't know whether to be pleased that the process was quick, or whether to complain about the fact he has not used the full-time allocation that he has paid for...

We survive another ride in the clunky scary lurching lift.

At home, the glasses sit beside me. 

I finally give in and put them on. 

They feel different, but they are wonderfully clean. I can see!

Fortunately, they look so similar to my old pair, that no one notices that they are different. 

That is just the sort of change I like.

Pull the Other One

There was much excitement on the allotment front, as DH ordered some parts to rebuild his polytunnel, which was flattened by the recent storm Ali.
Unfortunately, the parts for the replacement frame arrived minus a key support.
Fortunately, the missing leg was located by the carriers and delivery was promised the following afternoon.

Saturday morning was bright and sunny, so I began tackling the laundry backlog.
Then the doorbell rang.
Through the glass panel in the frint door, I could see the postie taking an item out of his bag.
"Well, if it fits in his bag it cannot be the missing leg..." thought I.
Indeed it wasn't.
Instead, it was some brightly covered aprons for the Afternoon Tea Services in October' and December.
That was pretty impressive, for delivery promised between the 6th and 16th of October!

Soon afterwards there was another delivery.
This time it was the missing section of the frame.
Mind you, when DH had told me he was expecting delivery of a leg, I envisaged something a little larger than the package that arrived...

The KHT was looking forward to a trip to town,
as she misses having a day off during the week.
Unfortunately, she was also suffering from the effects of a cold, so I didn't want her to do too much wandering.
I checked the cinema listings.
Christopher Robin was on at 3pm.
Excellent!
We could have a short wander around town and then she could relax into the wonderful  and undemanding world of Winnie the Pooh.

We were dropped off close to the centre of town and walked up Evesham Street, providing the opportunity to visit Pokestops and catch invisible monsters.
Then we noticed blue lights and could hear a tannoy.
Had there been a big drama at one of the shops in Church Green East?
A large crowd gathered around the bandstand.
I had forgotten that the town was expecting a big visit today.
"Ooooh!" said the KHT. "It is Jeremy Corbyn!"
We had missed the main event, which was a pity as I would have been interested to hear what he had to say.
On the other hand,  it would not have been a good day for the KHT to have hung around.
If you look carefully Jeremy Corbyn is just visible beneath the trio of red balloons...





However, it wasn't JC we had come to see, much as I would have liked to have been there to hear his speech. Instead, CR was the man that had drawn us to town. CR, as in the film Christopher Robin.

The KHT thoroughly enjoyed the film, though I must admit that I did get irritated by parts of the story.
1. Why didn't CR go to the cottage and take his work with him?
2. Why didn't he talk to his wife?
3. Why didn't he go and see his wife and daughter when he arrived in Sussex?
4. Why were the characters so drab? Disney seems to reinvent characters in such a way that you struggle to recognise who they are. Let's face it, Winnie the Pooh looked like a paler version of Paddington, and was equally lacking in credibility!
Having said that the film had enough humour to outweigh these petty annoyances.

Not Sunday Best

DH collected us from town having completed an afternoon's successful leg planting for his repaired polytunnel.
However, his endeavours had taken their toll on his jeans, which were decidedly muddy and ripped.
DH didn't think that they would survive washing, so they were deposited in the bin.
This was despite me pointing out that they were the most fashionable item of clothing he possessed...