Open and Closed

Saturday and we go over the top...
No longer restricted to an hour for our daily excursion
the KHT and I get slightly more adventerous in our explorations.
Where will we end up?
Who knows!

We set off.
After turning a corner, spy a family we know, undertaking a grand garden clearance project.
They offer me a bundle of mangled vintage chain link fencing, coated in bright green plastic.
Very 1980's...
How could I resist such an offer?
Surely the fencing would come in useful on the allotment?
Explorers travel light, so I had to decline the generous gift.
We admire their stirling efforts and continue on our way.
Past the suppermarket (open)
and pub (closed).

We get diverted by a spinney
before re-emerging into the housing estate.
adjacent to the meeting rooms (closed)
and takeaway (closed until it is opening time).
heading for the ridge and the view from the footbridge.

We continue to ascend the hill .
Suddenly we are on the ridge - just not quite where we anticipated -
adjacent to the trophey shop (closed)
Salvation Army Charity Shop (closed)
and funeral directors (looks closed, but probably open if required).
Past the florist (closed)
various hair and beauty establishments (closed)
small coffee shop (closed)
and Post office (closed, but open again on Monday).

We turn cross the road and the KHT's face lights up
"Look down there, you will see something very special!" she announces joyfully.
I look at my phone.
I can see something special - a Pokestop,
but that its not what she has in mind
"It's the Malverns!" she announces, with a deep sigh of satisfaction.
The KHT loves to spot this familiar outline,
particularly when returning up the M5.
When she spots those familiar blue hills
she knows that she is nearly home!






We walk continue down the hill,
admiring the well cared for Parish church (closed).
"Shall I get Dad to collect us from Droitwich?" I enquire...









At the bottom of the hill we turn,
back up towards the roundabout,
passing a row of shops.
The 'corner shop' (open) is a hive activity,
with people waiting outside to enter the premises

Further up the hill we encounter the Methodist church (closed).
However it has a community garden (open),
so we wander around.
The KHT is worried in case we are trespassing,
but I reassure her that this section of the church grounds are open to the public.
I show her the fruit trees.
"It is a garden for the community, 
a bit like the orchard between Greenlands and Woodrow".
The KHT is very impressed and admires the much mulched landscaping.
"Ruth must be very proud of this." she announces.
I am sure that Ruth and her congregation are very pleased with what they have achieved together.




We negotiate the roundabout,
fortunately the traffic is still a lot lighter than usual.
We stand on the footbridge,
admiring the view across to Warwickshire
before heading homewards.

A lady on a 'Rascal' mobility scooter,
is exercising her canine rascal
throwing a small section of branch for it to retreive.
"One more!" she announces.
The dog changes down the bank in joyful anticipation
The piece of wood sails past the ears of the dog
"Don't hit the dog..." I joke.
"It wouldn't be the first time!" she assures me.
We moved on before we too get clobbered!



We passed wonderfully twisted oaks
that stretched up towards the heavens.
I pondered briefly if Enid Blyton was inspired by an oak when she wrote her much-loved Faraway Tree series.
You could imagine a whole community living in such a mighty tree.













Later we pass another oak which looks dead.
I wonder what happened
to extinguish all signs of life from this particular tree.
Not so much 'Faraway' as 'too far gone'!














As my eyes passed across the wooded landscape, it can be sometimes difficult  to remember that we are in the middle of a town. We owe much to those who had the vision to planted so many trees, thus enhancing the existing woodland.






I wonder where our next expedition will take us?

Puzzling Times

Nothing beats a good mental challenge.

However, until recently, the lack of available memory space on my phone limited what I could download and play.
Each week I try to hit my modest weekly points target on 'Words With Friends' and usually succeed.
A version of Solitaire provides great satisfaction, as I love to create runs and sequences of numbers (just don't ask me to add the blessed things up!). For added interest I apply the self imposed target of solving two consecutive games before I will allow myself to attempt the daily challenge.

Sometime last year I was introduced to 'Spelling Bee'
a daily word game on the website of a certain famous American newspaper.
consisting of seven letters arranged in a a hexagon shape.
Each word must be at least 4 letters long and include the central letter.
Each puzzle includes at least one 'Pangram' -
a word that utilises every letter AND scores bonus points.
Unlike the more famous 'Countdown conundrum', you can any of the letters more than once.

My friend and I are quite competitive
and have a daily battle to see who could achieve the highest score.
This is a battle in which I am never victorious, but I always try!
However, unless my fellow competitor finds every word (which has been known)
there are usually a couple of words that I get that she doesn't
 - and usually more words that she gets that I don't!

All that fun ended when the newspaper decided to put Spelling Bee behind a paywall.
You could start playing but then you would be booted out
and advised to subscribe to continue playing.
Much as we enjoyed the game, the price was rather more than either of us was willing to pay.
Being English I am used to getting my news for free, or tolerating adverts and my limited interest in American news does not warrant a news subscription.

During the lockdown lots of things have suddenly become available,
hoping that we will decide that we cannot possibly live without them
once the current crisis is over.
I decided to check the game to see if was still restricted.
Sure enought we could play again. Woohoo! Game on!
Maybe it was because we hadn't played for several months.
Who knows.
"Guess what!" I informed my friend, "Spelling Bee is back!"
Our daily battles recommenced - until last week when it returned behind the paywall.
Once more you can start a game.
Then after a while it closes, compliments you on your ability and advises you to subscribe.
I am not falling for all that flattery, I know you just want my money!

To get round this problem, I have adapted how I play -
setting myself the challenge of finding the Pangram and that is it.
I refuse to suffer daily rejection from an online newspaper!
Today was the hardest puzzle.
I was stumped.
My friend was stumped.
We were both stumped!
This is most unusual.

Often the pangram is two words that are also a word in their own right, like 'roadworks'.
We both tried various words 'roof', 'booby' 'pray' 'faro',
but that strategy didn't help either of us solve the pangram.
On the trail of the holy grail, I got creative, creating some 'never-will-be' words in the process...
"PraybabyFo"
"Robbyfar"
"Rafborpy"
"Yarfbop"
"Bopraphy"
"Proffaby"
"Boobyfarp"
"Faroprobby"

I was advised that my suggestions were not 'proper words',
and I have to admit that the rules exclude obscure words.
From this side of the pond we are always amused what is considered obscure -
'laird', for instance, is never a point scorer!
Before it became restricted again, it was a point of interest to note what words were unacceptable.

My friend decided that she was never going to get it
and would wait until tomorrow, when all will be revealed under 'yesterdays answers'.
I have to admit that what ever the word is,
it is not only babyproof, it is "Daffyproof" as well!

Keeping it under my hat...and other thoughts

Sultry spring suddenly made its presence felt once more.
A visit the local Post office was on the agenda,
as I had a bundle of letters I wanted to get in the post,
hopefully to arrive before the weekend.
This necessitated our daily walk taking place earlier than usual.
Shady glades and sweeping views
were traded for the more mundane plod along the sunbeaten streets of suburbia,
in search of stamps,
paying-in envelopes for Lloyds Bank
and a post box.

"Do I need a coat?"
"It's 21 degrees out there!"
The KHT reappeared respendent in her cool trekker hat (complete with secret mozzy net),
blue t-shirt and the Puma leggings she chose as one of her birthday presents
neither of which which has pockets.
As we wander we will spin Pokestops and capture any unsuspecting Pokemon,
but there was no sign of the device essential to such an operation.
I regarded at her quizzically,
before giving in and asking
"Where's your phone?"
Then an outlandish thought crossed my mind
"You haven't hidden it under your hat, have you?" I joked.
She removed her head gear with a flourish,
revealing her phone, balanced upon her head.
I laughed in appreciation at her creativity,
and suggest the bag of letters for post
might make a more suitable repository for her mobile.
There is a fine line between genius and insanity.
We all chose where to draw the line, but who is to say where is should actually be!?

The Post office was quiet,
just one customer being served
and another joined the queue behind me.

Stamps were affixed to letters,
which were then popped in the post box
before we continued on out journey.

We took a circular route,
noting the unstoppable changing of the seasons
- nature is definitely not limited by lockdown.
The generously endowed lilac,
weighed down by
sodden fragrant extravagance last week,
is already in descending into decrepitude
as the browning blooms descend to the pavement
to be trodden underfoot by oblivious pedestrians.








Every area has a landmark,
by which the passing of the seasons are measured.
This is the tree I look out for when travelling this route.
I am ignorant as to its species,
my interest is in observation not indentification
I just love the shape of it.
A short while ago the leaves were beginning to open.
Today it is transformed,
decked out in seasonal finery.








In the evening we join neighbours on our doorsteps to express our appreciation of the NHS and other key workers.
I doubt if they can hear us, but it is the thought that counts.
DH breaks off a Zoom session to join in as we ring handbells in an orderly descending scale,
before deciding that shaking them produces a more satisfying clanging crescendo

Parents ushering their children to the door to take part,
so that this will be part of their lockdown memories
to recall through rose-tinted glasses
when they reach middle age
- sharing through a yet-to-be invented form of communication.
Then, because we are British, we don't know how to stop without looking awkward.
In our bit of the street the noise peters away,
whilst our more boisterous neighbours in the adjacent close
continue their joyful celebrations the other side of the six foot fence..
The tribute complete I take the opportunity to catch up with a neighbour.

Afterwards we retreat behind our doors,
and revert to watching the world through the internet.
Then I remembered that the next day was a Bank Holiday
and that Saturday deliveries have been suspended...

Seeing Red?

Policians tell us that the worst is over, which is really good news. Our thought turn to the future and how we will respond to other people once social distancing is no longer mandatory. Will hugging and shaking hands ever be something we do spontaneously, without pausing to consider if it is safe to do so?

Then I had a brainwave, we could wear badges based on a traffic light system.

RED, if our immunity is compromised, or we hate hugs, sending a clear and uncompromising message - KEEP TWELVE FEET AWAY.

AMBER, come close enough to have a confidential conversation, say three feet, but NO physical contact unless we are related, longstanding friends,  or in a relationship.

GREEN - I am in good health and physical contact is important to me. Lockdown is over! Bring on those hugs and handshakes. Please!!!!!!

All sounds simple enough...until it goes wrong.

What if you are colour blind and mistake a red for a green?

Or you are wearing a green badge AND EVERYONE AVOIDS YOU!
Leaving you thinking, am I really that weird?

Then of course there is the lunatic, that would take great delight in approaching a red badged person at 90 miles an hour with arms w-i-d-e open, and lips puckered... and then wonders why the other person sees red, and they are left with blood dripping from their nose, as the sweet and innocent-looking intended object of the affections delivers a very effective right hook.