Vintage

I recently discovered an old notebook, and decided to start using it again. I always like to have a notebook with me.
As I had only used a few pages, it fitted the bill.

Flipping through the book this particular page caught my eye - if it makes sense to you then you are one of a small group of people who helped lead services in St Pixels a scary number of years ago!












On Wednesday of this week we went with the  grandchildren and their parents to a nearby pub for lunch. Both DH and I have birthdays this month and Half Term fits nicely between the two.
A meal out with six children is never going to be a quiet affair. G1(aged 12) has matured to the point that she is horrified how much noise and fuss children can make - even though it is not that long since she would have been one of the main contributors!
Meanwhile, the youngest grandchild was somewhat aggrieved at being trapped in a high chair, but was somewhat mollified when he realised that we were all sat round the table.
With her elder siblings paired off with a cousin G5 (aged 5) sensibly positioned herself next to her favourite Aunty to enjoy some one-to-one attention.

At one point G4 (aged 7) didn't feel that he was winning at life, so out came the trusty notebook and pen.
"Draw me an alien" I suggested.
A few minutes later and this strange creature had appeared. The cause of his distress long forgotten. Apparently the alien had to be called Ivor as he had so many eyes...

Sums were calculated and battles of 'Noughts and Crosses' were fought upon the pages of my ancient spiral bound notebook as the it migrated from grandchild to grandchild.

An old receipt from Carrefour appeared.
"It is Spanish! It can't be mine. It was about 13 years ago when we went to Spain!"

Later when I got home two boarding passes from that very trip to Malaga fluttered out!

This notebook isn't old. It is vintage!

Four!?

Not much time for gallivanting today as it was the local community fun session at 3pm to celebrate the start of half term. A visit was scheduled to the nearest remaining M & S so I could purchase some trousers.
"Whilst you are there can you get some coffee?" asked DH prior to my departure.

Suitable trousers were identified, tried on and purchased. They were NOT the jeans bizarrely labelled 'cigarette' - making me wonder who could possibly think this was an appropriate name to market anything under!

I then made my way to the food department and bought up the entire stock of 200g jars of M & S Gold Blend Coffee.
That may sounds like a significant purchase,
but it was only four jars...
No-one batted an eyelid at the tins of soup
or large block of cheese already residing in my basket, but the jars of coffee earned several second glances.
No sooner had I picked them up that I noticed a customer giving my purchases a quizzical look.
"That's a lot of coffee!" he observed.
"We are a 'Fair Trade' church," I explained, "and this is the best 'Fair Trade' coffee we have found so far."
"Ah! It is for a church. That makes sense."
I headed off for one of the stationary lines of persons waiting to be served.
The customer in front also commented the quantity of caffine I was purchasing.
Who knew that shopping for Fair Trade goods was so exciting!?

Late Night Cogitations

Tick, tick, tick
but never tock.
Tap, tappetty tap, tap, tap
but never dance.
I strain my ears to hear a sound
any sound...
Is that music?
Or just my ears playing tricks on me?

What is it like to be trapped in a high-rise flat.
Alone.
Intermitant distant noises
are all that reassure you
that you are not the only one left.
Outside, no-one stirs in the silent shadowy streets
and shopping malls.
Inside, fear and anxiety stalk you.
What if you get ill?
Who will know?
Who will care?
Side by side in separate flats
your neighbours share
your fears.
There are no answers.
The prayers of the world form a shield around you
which you cannot perceive in your isolation.
You do not know that the world watches on
from a safe distance.
Trying to decode the news.
The numbers are small but the projects are large.
Numbers do not add up.
You constantly monitor your health - is my throat sore?
Am I succumbing to this unfamiliar ailment
that has invaded this land like an unwelcome parasite?

In Syria, the cold is relentless
food in short supply
heat non existent.
The world ignores the plight of the starving children.
It has no stomach for a fight that is not fuelled by oil...

South America and Mexico
Drug cartels rule
and those who oppose
are soon removed.

We pin our hopes on snowdrops
which have no choice but to bloom,
for that is what they are programmed to do.
Do not place too much importance on horticultural happenings.
Be cheered by the delicate heads of Galanthus,
appreciate their pastel purity
but they will never be your salvation.
Turn instead to the source
and pray that humankind
remembers to imitate that generous grace.