Organising diners

Today we're having another surprise, & very welcome, visitor - the sun. It comes as a shock to get up to blue skies & a dry patio floor. I've hastily filled up all the bird feeders. You never know who might come along.

I'm still trying to sort out the orders for the Xmas meal. Last year there were about 17 of us. Our numbers seem greatly depleted by the demise of three of us & the worsening health of others. This year there will be only 11.

It never ceases to amaze me how difficult this sorting out precise orders can be. We set the date for the meal before we went off to Italy in September. When we came back I told everyone I would be round for menu choices at the end of November, after the wedding. Menus were available in the Pub all that time.

Some people still haven't decided, or they've told me one thing then rung up as they've changed their minds. Then there are the souls who can't find anything on the special Christmas menu they fancy - there's a choice of 5 starters, 6 main courses, 4 puds - so could they have something off the normal menu? There's special requests. Battered fish, all batter, with 6 chips & half a spoonful of peas. For another thin chips, not the thick chips on the menu. So it goes on. Still I've just the one person to give me her decision & we've arranged to meet her at the Pub this afternoon. Then the orders will go in & they'll just have to stick with whatever they've agreed on.

Mind you, I'll keep a copy of the orders for myself. Past experience has taught me that by the time of the meal, they will all have forgotten what they ordered anyway! At least that way everyone gets what they ordered, like it or not.

An unexpected visitor

Yesterday I had a surprise. I happened to look out of the kitchen window and was surprised to see an unusual, for us, avian visitor. I didn't have my glasses on. I'm rather short-sighted so everything was a bit of a blur. Nonetheless the jaunty gait of this bird searching the patio floor for food was unmistakable. A wagtail. At first I assumed it was a pied wagtail as they are fairly numerous around here. They rarely visit our garden, seeming to prefer the nearby prom. But then this bird turned round. His breast was dazzling yellow, making the grey of his back all the more striking. A grey wagtail. We had one visit us once several years ago but it never returned. I hope this one comes again.

Changed times

I'm currently reading a novel by Michael Gilbert. It's just a light thriller written in the 1960s. I probably read it in the 70s but since then Michael Gilbert as an author has disappeared into the back recesses of my mind. Anyhow, I fancied a new book after a rather turgid read, just something light, a bit of a distraction before tackling anything more serious for a bit. I scoured the bookshelves & came across this book.

I can't tell you how much I'm enjoying. It's written in a style that is rather old-fashioned these days. There's an articulacy & lyricism in the use of language that is enchanting. There are sections of description that fill your mind with pictures & yet don't distract from the pace of the action. A real tonic. I can see I'll be looking out once more for his books.

Some of the descriptions are still valid today. This novel is set in Italy. At one point an Englishman comments about the difference in attitude to driving between the English & the Italian."As a nation we are law-abiding, intolerant, and insistent on priorities. One of the results of this is our morbid passion for queueing. We become bad-tempered if another driver interferes with those priorities by, say, cutting in, or jumping the lights, or pulling out into the wrong lane, even is - get out of my way you cross-eyed cow. Europeans, on the other hand, and more particularly the Italians, regard driving as a sport. Provided the referee isn't looking, you can cheat and bluff to the limit. See that taxi? He thinks I'm going to give way, but I'm not. But you must be cheerful about it, and good tempered when your bluff's called. Molte grazie, signore." Our recent trip to Italy proved to us that this is still very much the Italian attitude to driving, only accompanied a constant sounding of the horn.

We've not found it nearly as bad in other European countries. In France there is a certain macho element, always wanting to be first to move off when the lights turn to green. But they do wait for the lights to turn to green & they happily accept it if you don't want to join in the game. They will give way & show lane discipline like any civilised nation. And rarely do they honk their horns. A flash of lights maybe to warn you there's a police speed trap round the corner, but that's it.

Back to the Pub

We're off to the Pub today. We haven't been since Monday. It seems strange not to have been for a while. It's actually been a pleasure to do a few different things for a change.

The reasons for going are twofold, apart from the pleasure of seeing friends again. The first is we're off to the butchers for one of his flavoursome chickens for tomorrow. We pass the Pub on the way back from there.

Secondly I'm hoping to get the orders for our Christmas dinner. We have one every year for members of Geriatrics' Corner. This year our numbers seem rather depleted with the demise of Little B, MK & Dave C. I'm sure they will all be remembered with love & missed. I'm not sure how I ended up getting roped into organised the meal but I seem to have landed the job for the last few years. I've already got some of the orders. Friday is usually the day of the best turn-out so I'm hoping to get most of the rest today. Any I don't get, I'll phone round over the weekend.

At least today we seem to be having some bright sunny spells between the heavy downpours. I just hope the rain stops soon. I feel this must have been not just one of the, but, the wettest November ever. Let's hope December is better.

Mini fish balls

For the jazz night, you'll have to read the Fox's blog. Suffice to say we stayed until around 10, longer than anticipated by us. By then my knees were beginning to complain. We came home, a quick cup of tea & I was in bed before 11pm. The group were okay, the singer nondescript, but the harmonica player was brilliant. Now that was a man who sure had rhythm.

All this has meant I've had the energy to prepare an old favourite for today's dinner - mini fish balls. This is a recipe I adapted from an Australian Home Journal c1950. (My mother had obviously brought several issues of the magazine with her when we finally moved back to England to stay in the mid-50s. She kept them, along with just about every copy of "Woman" magazine from then until the day she died in 1978.) The joy of this recipe is that it uses so little fish. So it is that the 3oz of haddock I had left over in the freezer, has now made 22 little fish balls, ample for the two of us, for frying up this evening. And what is more I'll guarantee they'll taste more fishy than many meals using two or three times as much fish.

All this is just as well. It's Farmers' Market day in Morecambe so we'll be off there later this morning. What is more the milk is low, so we'll have to do a supermarket shop as well. It will be reassuring to know dinner this evening will take minimal effort to complete now.

Another evening out

At least the morning is brighter today. Instead we have the wind howling. It's bin day, so there's rubbish being blown everywhere. Wheelie bins keep drifting along the road. Lids & empty boxes fly through the air.

I'm trying for a quiet day today. We're off out to a jazz night tonight.

It's the result of a bit of a misunderstanding. At the stag night, Den mentioned there was going to be a jazz night at the golf club soon. The Fox expressed interest (as you know, he loves his jazz) & asked for details of the event. When we were at the wedding reception the Fox noticed a poster about the event, realised it was on far too late for us especially after my painful experience at the hen night, & dismissed the idea as just not feasible. So you can imagine our surprise when Den rang up on Monday to say he'd bought the tickets for us & the event was on this Wednesday, ie tonight. We feel obliged to go. However, we're quite expecting to stay just a short while, not the whole evening.

So I'm resting up. I'm hoping if I just sit around this morning, perhaps have a lie down in the afternoon, I'll cope. It didn't work on the night of the hen night, but maybe it will do tonight. There's no harm in hoping.

Busy mornings

It seems strange. For some unaccountable reason the Fox is getting up early in the morning at the moment. I would say bright & early in the morning but it's so dark, wet & grey that we're still needing the lights on on this particularly gloomy day & it's already after 9am! I'm just keeping my fingers crossed that all this extra rain isn't causing yet more damage further north in the Lake District.

Yesterday we made the most of the Fox being around & of a spell of dryness, to make a trip into Lancaster. For shopping, Lancaster tends to be a better place than Morecambe. For some time I've needed some new sandals so we've finally got that sorted. We also popped into Sainsbury's to buy some okra & some champagne for Christmas (a Which best buy this year).

At the moment the Fox is busy preparing a lamb stew for this evening. The okra will be added later. We've never seen, let alone bought, ladies' fingers before, so this is quite an experimental meal. In fact, I think, the only time I've ever had okra is pickled as a side dish at an Indian restaurant. It will be interesting to find out how we like it.

Okra is the sort of thing that is impossible to buy in Morecambe. Lancaster has a far bigger ethnic community, especially with there being so many foreign students at the university, so it justifies stocking more ethnic foods even in more mainstream shops.

I just wish the weather was that bit better. It would have been nice, while the Fox is up so early to have had a few trips out - a walk along the prom together, explore Happy Mount Park (it's supposed to be well worth it but we've just never found the time), see other examples of the Tern Project (the artworks based on the theme of birds that are scattered throughout Morecambe, some in places only accessible on foot rather than visible when passing in the car), or a day into the Lakes (preferably not under water) or the Trough of Bowland. Instead it's just too wet do anything much. At least I've had the time to complete the sewing of our wedding present for Den & Fran. Now I just need to press it before we're off to the framer's shop.

The real stuff

I'm looking forward to today's dinner. The Fox is making us a salmon kedgeree. We haven't had a salmon one for ages. As you know, we usually have a kipper & egg one. Occasionally we'll go mad & have a smoked salmon or even a more traditional smoked haddock one. But today it's salmon, made with the real stuff ie out of tin.

Like most people of my generation & older salmon comes out of a tin. Before the days of fish farming, salmon was prohibitively expensive so unless you were very rich or caught your own, fresh salmon never appeared on the table. I still find it very strange to think these days fresh salmon is cheaper than cod or haddock, the cheaper fish of my youth. Even now, the real taste of salmon, as with tuna, is from a tin, though the fresh stuff does now appear on our table from time to time. Indeed on Friday we had poached salmon in an egg & lemon sauce. Delicious it was too, but it just wasn't "real" salmon.

The floods

I watch the flooding in Cockermouth with a certain sense of relief. At one point we did seriously consider moving there. It's a pleasant town with a real sense of community. Not too touristy as so many Lakeland towns are. It was tempting, but ultimately we decided too far from the motorway. At the time we were still having to do regular trips down to Manchester to see family, so the motorway was a definite consideration.

But knowing the town has made these floods all the more real. Our hearts go out to those poor people who have been forced out of their homes probably for months while they are cleaned, repaired & redecorated. As for those whose houses & contents were uninsured it must be a nightmare. Not to mention those whose livelihoods are at risk as their businesses have to close for months for repair & renovation.

The floods have encouraged an anxious phone call or two. My cousins are aware we don't live far from the Lake District & that our garden floods regularly at the best of times. We are fine. Indeed our garden lakes, although persistent (not surprising with all the rain we've had the last month or so), are if anything lower than usual. However, you don't have to go far to see fields under water. The River Lune in Lancaster has burst its banks, no doubt flooding the quayside. Roads in various directions are closed due to flooding.

We're hoping the newly-weds are okay. They're honeymooning in Kendal which has also flooded. We're telling ourselves their hotel is high up on the hill so should be okay. And if nothing else, they will have a warm fire, good food & a bar even if it's too wet to get out much. If the roads are blocked off, then other visitors can't reach the hotel so no doubt they can keep their room an extra day or two until they can leave. So far the Kendal by-pass & the motorway are still open, so with a bit of luck they'll make it home on time.

Meanwhile it continues to rain.....

Another ambulance

The rabbit is plopping away. Each time I venture into the kitchen the sweet spicy smell of cinnamon assaults my nose. It's not often we have rabbit but occasionally I do find it a bit of a treat. I discovered rabbit when we were first married. In Lancaster market then, I did much of my weekly shop. And there was a rabbit stall there. I soon discovered what delicious casseroles they made, with oh so tender meat that just dropped off the fine bones. So it's rabbit today.

I was a bit late starting today. As usual I sat for a little over my breakfast mug of tea & was alarmed to see an ambulance turn the corner, lights flashing. Which neighbour was it now? Ill-health seems to dog our bit of road. Out of the ten houses around us we've got, or had, 5 people with heart problems (resulting in death in two cases), kidney problems twice (resulting in one death) , two disabled people (luckily so far we've not had to get the ambulance out), another suffering the adverse effect of depression, and all that in just 9 years.

I had to stop & check our neighbours were okay. It was with some relief that it turned out not to be anything wrong with our neighbours. Instead they loaded into the ambulance a young woman who was visiting next door. By the look of the way she was nervously holding her arm across her stomach I suspect she had fallen & broken an arm, It would seem next door there will be five children until the young mother is able to drive home with her child.

I'm just getting jittery. After all the deaths we've had this year I feared we would have yet another funeral to go to.

The reception

We're having pork for dinner today. I'm just hoping it isn't going to be the elastic band fed pork our friends recently had. I'm telling myself after three hours of cooking in a slow oven nothing can be that tough & chewy.

I'm relieved to say that the Fox is once more himself. We set off for the wedding reception with him still very monosyllabic & withdrawn. But somewhere during the course of the reception, he refound himself & came back considerably more himself.

The reception was held at the golf club, our first visit there. The food was excellent. It was just a buffet. But what a buffet! The hot sliced beef was so succulent & moist. The vol-au-vents light & tasty, moist without being soggy. Beautiful ham. Chicken that just fell off the bone. Tuna sandwiches. Lightly spiced potato wedges. Light fluffy flan. Cheese & biscuits.

The bride wore a beautiful duck egg suit with a bit of white embroidery around the hems. On top of her head a teal fascinator. Fran had pushed the boat out. She may be 75 but, she whispered, she'd put on stockings & a garter for Den's delectation that night. They were both looking radiantly happy. Den proudly put his arm around her possessively & she gently rested her head on his shoulder. Long may it continue.

An anxious evening

The day of the wedding has arrived. We're due to go to the reception this afternoon. We gather the cut glass crystal rose bowl has arrived at PD's ready to be given to the happy couple. My embroidery is going well. I've still not quite finished it but the end is in sight. I think I can confidently say it will be completed by the end of the week. Then there's only the delay for its framing. I hope they like it after all that effort.

My main anxiety is the Fox at the moment. We went out shopping yesterday, stopping at the Pub on the way back. He seemed fine going but seemed in a very weird mood coming back. All evening, over dinner, he remained withdrawn. He assured me I'd said & done nothing to upset him. Despite my efforts he wouldn't talk about it last night. Later on he said he felt he was going down with something, flu perhaps, & went off to bed at 9pm - very unlike him. Certainly he felt very cold despite the central heating being on as usual.

I wondered whether it was the arrival of yet another funeral party at the Pub - not for anyone we knew, but it's one of the risks with the Pub being one of the nearest pubs to the crematorium - that upset him My thoughts inevitably went to friends & family lost, especially to those who have died this year. I suspect his will have done too. This particular party was a catering nightmare. The Pub was told to prepare for 25 - 100 guests. A bit of a difference in numbers!

Or did PD say something to upset him? I was talking to my neighbour on the other side when his mood changed. With so many people coming in for the funeral it was impossible to hear what they were talking about as well.

I'm just hoping the Fox is back to his normal self today & it was just a blip evening as sometimes happens.

Sober thoughts

It's been a busy few days, what with food shopping, a trip to Kendal to buy our new hi-fi system, the Farmers' Market & the hen night.

The latter went well. Conversation & laughter kept going. It was after 9 before Mrs B resorted to the Mr & Mrs quiz she'd prepared earlier to ask Fran her answers - she'd already got the groom's earlier on. I'm glad to say Den did amazingly well - about 20 out of 27 & most of them questions Fran herself dithered on. Eventually, nearer 10pm we set off back home.

I found myself thinking over the party the next day. Certain things struck me.

First, I had left the party in absolute agony. My knees had burst into flames & were throbbing away. I ended up having a restless night despite taking a sleeping pill - the only way I would have got off in such pain - & several painkillers. Late night partying is beyond me these days. Just occasionally I can stay up later, but it has to be spontaneous & if I feel up to it on the day. We have been invited out for a New Year's Eve dinner & to see the new year in. Now I'm absolutely convinced this is not on. I will try to see the new year in as usual & open a celebratory bottle of champers if I can make it, but it will be at home, where I can loll about, nightwear on & knee braces off. That way I can fall into bed when I want to without any further hassle required.

Another thing that struck me was how unfair my ill-health was on the Fox. He didn't drink much at the stag party. He reckoned because of the driving home. I don't think that's the only reason. We could have got a taxi back if necessary. But once home, he would still have had to be sober enough to help me get changed & into bed. And there's certainly no way I could help him if he was legless. Admittedly that's been a very rare event in our thirty plus years of marriage. He is always on duty as carer, 24 hours a day, even when we're out enjoying ourselves. He rarely complains & I try to make sure he knows how much I appreciate all his efforts, but it still seems unfair to me.

But all this agony & angst will have been worthwhile if Fran & Den feel embraced by the warmth, love & goodwill of their friends. I do hope all goes well on Tuesday & they have a happy marriage.

(I wonder if I'll survive a second party, the wedding reception, so soon after the hen night. We'll see....)

Sewing away

I should warn you I may be absent from my blog site for a few days. As you know we're going to a wedding next week. As soon as we knew about the wedding (the news was waiting for us when we came back from Italy early last month), we put in an order for their wedding present. We've decided to give them a counted cross stitch picture that we hope will amuse them. We thought I should just about have time to get it sewn before the wedding. However, with the postal strikes, the kit didn't arrive until Saturday. Since then, whenever the light is reasonable, I've been desperately trying to get it done. I'm hoping, come next week, we'll at least be able to tell them, it's with the framer & will soon be theirs. But first I must get it sewn. So don't worry if you don't hear from me. I'm just sewing away.

It's difficult thinking of presents for older friends when they decide to get married. When you first set up home as young people, you need just about everything. We've all be scratching our heads when it comes to a couple in their mid-seventies who've already got plenty of clutter collected over the years without adding extra.

We keep hearing about what others are thinking of getting. Ours won't be the only late arrival. A month's notice doesn't give you much time to sort much. Still it sounds as though they're getting a specially made, cut-glass rose bowl (PD's brother-in-law makes them professionally), meal vouchers for the local restaurants & hostelries, our picture, food for the hen/stag night, to name but a few. Meanwhile the number of guests keeps growing. Invites keep coming out every day. At last hearing there were 86 guests & still growing. The golf club, where the reception is to be held, will be heaving. The feelings of warmth & goodwill to the bride & groom should be palpable.

It's good to have something joyous to think about.

Getting back to normal

Life is slowly getting back to normal. The rain has returned.

Little B's funeral went well.

I confess I was anxious about the idea of a funeral with no music, no readings, no religion as stipulated by Little B. It was a relief to discover Anthony, his executor, had decided to ignore this instruction and some gentle music played as we entered the chapel of the crem. It was a simple Christian service. Just a couple of hymns & prayers, one reading. Above all the service centred on Little B, our friend, & our need to support one another through our loss. The Christian message wasn't rammed down everyone's throat as so often happens at religious services.

Back at the Pub afterwards, it was good to see faces not so often seen. And the meal afterwards with Helen was excellent as it always is at this restaurant.

When we got home, we sat & watched "University Challenge" on BBC2. Then we opened a bottle of wine & put on a CD of music from the Moulin Rouge. (One of the questions had been playing the famous music of the cancan. Who wrote the music? Offenbach.) After the first few bars of music, as the image of stockinged legs kicking high amidst the swirl of frilly petticoats dancing the cancan began to form in our minds, all abruptly went silent. It seems our radio/CDplayer/tape player had given up the ghost. It has been threatening to do so for some time. We hastily put the CD on the tv. It is amazing how distracting the light of the screen is, even though there's no picture. We concluded we're going have to get onto buying a replacement soon. Today if possible. You can imagine my surprise this morning when I tried putting on the radio. And, sure enough, there it was. Still I think we still need to look for something more reliable soon.

Now it's time to turn our thoughts to the wedding next week. But first we have the hen & stag party. It's been decided to start with a meal at the Pub all together for a select few. Then others will join in, the men going to another bar up a few steps, while the ladies stay below. We're hoping to slip off fairly soon after the parties have separated & yet not cause offence. We wish both Fran & Den well & wouldn't want to spoil anything for them.

A beautiful morning

It's a beautiful morning for once. After all that rain, yesterday was dry & bright. But today is simply stunning.

There must have been a heavy frost last night. The shed roof is sparkling white. The wooden fences are steaming in the sun. The sunshine is streaming through the few remaining golden leaves on the trees. There's a clarity to the light that is dazzling. I would put my washing out but I suspect it would freeze on the line rather than dry. All together it's one of those mornings that make you feel glad to be alive.

There's just the one shadow on the day - Little B's funeral. I've finally decided on my attire, smart navy. I don't want to cause offence to anyone but I just cannot go in a pink tracksuit. Not to a funeral. And this is a blouse Little B liked.

It will be relief when it's all over & we can get back to normal. I always hate this period between a death & the subsequent funeral. I find it a strange, very settling, limbo time. On this occasion it has been particularly long because of the need for a post mortem & inquest. I'm just glad it will soon be over.

A quiet bonfire night

It seems to have been a remarkably quiet 5th November this year. Usually we hear & see fireworks going off weeks in advance & for some time after. Not so this year. When it was quiet on Thursday I assumed it was so uneventful because it was mid-week & so many children had to get up for school next day. I thought yesterday would be noisier.

Yesterday, Saturday, was the day of the big display in Lancaster. They do it in the fields near the castle & the fireworks can be seen for miles around. One year we had a French friend staying at the time, so we had a meal at a pub this side of the River Lune. There was a hiatus in the meal for everyone to go outside to watch the fireworks, see them reflected in the water & ooh & aah. He was really wowed.

At the castle itself they usually have a huge bonfire, plenty of food of all sorts, fire eaters & jugglers. All very festive.

I can't quite decide whether the quietness was due to the rain - and it certainly was wet - or yet another sign of the recession. There seemed to be a fair queue at the fireworks stall at Morrisons when we were there on Thursday. We certainly weren't about to venture out on such foul nights. I suspect many others felt the same.

I wonder whether in the next few weeks we'll have unexpected bangs & flashes as people set off fireworks they never used this week due to the sheer amount of rain we've experienced of late.

Rain, rain, rain

And still it rains. I'm beginning to wonder if it will ever stop. We watched "Autumnwatch" on BBC2 last night. Part of it was filmed in the Lake District. I cannot believe that many of the shots were taken this week. You couldn't have canoed in the sunshine. Even the few minutes when it hasn't been raining, it has been dark & brooding, not much sign of any brightness anywhere.

The bog garden is certainly more of a lake than a bog. I suspect the hydrangea has already given up the ghost. I'm just hoping, come to spring, it will pick up again. Everything else still seems to be surviving.

We're already holding onto the idea of the sunny south of France in spring to get us through the winter months. It seems set to be a long one this year. It already feels more like December than November. It was great to see a real fire blazing in our village pub yesterday.

Potatoes again

We're celebrating having potatoes once more with a rosti tonight. We're also looking forward to having some roast spuds with our roast beef tomorrow. These little things can bring great joy.

As you will have gathered we did indeed get to Morrisons. We set off in the early afternoon to find the car park heaving. We looked inside through the windows to see long queues at the tills.

So off we went to the Pub instead. It was a lively afternoon as it turned out. Tony, the power station worker was in, along with Mr P who had just returned from taking his school choir & orchestra to Kiel for the week. He regaled us with stories & pictures of what had happened. Soon PD strolled in to join the party.

Finally, 5ish, we decided it was time to depart. The shopping had to be done. We dropped PD off home on the way.

We were just choosing the spuds, when I heard a gentle voice greeting me from behind. It was Paul & Judith, a couple who frequently join us at the Pub. They hadn't heard the news about Little B. It came as quite a shock to Paul as he'd been having a drink with Little B on the Sunday afternoon, the night of which Little B had died. By the time we'd told them as well as catching up on the news about their sons, time was pressing on. We hastily grabbed the food.

Fortunately we were having a quick meal. The Fox got out his trusty wok & made us a salmon stir fry. Even so, by the time we had eaten it was after 8pm. So much for our quick shop!

Now I realise I had rushed round the shop so much I forgot to look for, let alone buy, the prunes I wanted for a lamb tagine later in the week. It will just have to wait till next time. The lamb is safely tucked away in the freezer so won't spoil.

Late post arriving

At last it's arrived. We re-insured our car at the end of October. Finally the documents have arrived. The accompanying letter is dated Oct 21. Presumably the letter has been lost in the post ever since, due to the strikes. I had decided I would have to give them a ring this weekend, especially as the premium worked on the basis of you pay one figure immediately but you receive a £30 cheque back provided you put the claim in within 30 days. If nothing else I wanted to make sure they knew we hadn't received that form, so if we were a little late putting in the claim we would still receive the money back. (Silly system to my mind. Why not just make the premium £30 less in the first place?) I'm also relieved that we will have some valid insurance documents to show if we ever stopped by the police.

I'm off to France next. We ordered the Michelin Green Guide for the Cote d'Azur. That finally came through the post yesterday. I've been itching to start reading about the area we're visiting next spring. All yesterday evening I kept flicking through the pages. It looks as though there's plenty of exciting things to do & places to visit. I'd never realised there was a strong Russian community in Nice. The Orthodox cathedral looks fabulous. As for art galleries, there's Picasso, Chagal, Matisse for starters. Oh it should be good. And at the end of the day, we'll probably so relaxed we barely venture from the pool at the villa. Still that would be a good reason to go back another time or two.

When will it end?

When will it end?

Rain came slashing down in heavy showers throughout most of yesterday. Today seems to be the same.

As I write, a meatball curry is plopping away. We're still potatoless. The idea of getting drenched going to the shops has little appeal. It looks as though tomorrow we'll have to shop whatever the weather. We're just running out of too many things. And when those things include basics like tea, bread, milk, as well as the potatoes, something has to be done. We're expecting the electrician on Friday so we won't be able to shop then.

The absence of Little B is still very tangible in the Pub. Yesterday, there were near fisticuffs over what to wear to his funeral. Little B requested not only no black but also to come casual. To some, this means tracksuits or T-shirts & jeans. Others don't feel that is appropriate wear for a funeral & they just wouldn't feel comfortable in such attire. The general consensus is that he meant in clothes such as you would wear for an afternoon at the pub. And for some of us that means sometimes smart casual. Proper shirts & trousers for men, skirts & dresses for the ladies. Certainly that is what I intend to do. It's amazing what a controversy such an apparently simple request can cause. We all want to say our farewells showing respect for our deceased friend, but we just can't agree about how best to show that respect.

Visit of the gremlins

I'm beginning to think the gremlins are visiting.

It starts when I get on the main computer. No problem with what I want to do on Word, but when I turn to the Internet, that's a different case. For some reason it just wouldn't load.

Eventually I move to the laptop. I first go to the website for the villa we've booked near Cannes. I've been trying to persuade Lin that she & PD would like to join us on the trip as the villa is for 6 so there's plenty of room. PD's already convinced. I thought I'd just check up on some of the details that are on the web, but not in the brochure. I'm just looking when the phone goes. The link within the net disappears. Try as I might when I press on the hyperlink nothing happens. I've abandoned the endeavour. I'll maybe try again later.

There are times I wish I was more computer literate. I know it's more a case of application. But, basically, as long as a tool works & I can do what I want to do, whether it's a computer or a car, that's all I care about. The mechanics just bore me. In this instance I leave it to the Fox to solve.

Changed times

I gather today is the 50th anniversary of the M1. On the BBC website this morning is a photo of the motorway in those days. The road is virtually deserted. A man is sweeping the road with a broom. He's not wearing any safety gear, nor is he surrounded by cones.

How things have changed. Last time we ventured along the M1 cars were in easy sight of each other. At times it was just one long snarl up, cars bumper to bumper, barely moving. We've tried travelling in the early hours of the morning. Even then there's a fair amount of traffic. No man would venture on foot on to that motorway without considerable protection & lane closures.

But I am left to wonder how they manage to keep the motorway so uncluttered with life's debris. Leaves & litter must blow on. Not to mention scraps of blown tyres & exhaust pipes falling on it. And then there's the squashed hedgehogs & birds that venture across the road. Yet it has to be said there tends not to be that much litter compared to so many urban & rural streets. Well done to the men who keep them so tidy.

Fashion dilemma

It's a dark morning today. The world is wet. The rain falls steadily.

At last we know when the funeral will be - a week on Monday. I always hate this limbo time, a time of waiting, unable to let go, haunted by memories. It is only after the funeral you can get on with the business of re-building & getting on with your life.

I find myself wondering what to wear. The last time I'd seen Little B he had complimented me on what I was wearing. He hadn't often done this, so I thought it was an appropriate outfit to wear to his funeral in memory of him. Now we hear that in his will, he stipulates no black & to dress casually. The outfit has a black background, even though there is scarlet & twinkle to cheer it. I suppose now I had better decide on something else, out of respect to his wishes. But what?

Much as I can understand a stipulation against black ties, this dress code bugs me. I often wear black as I feel smart in it. One of the most chic outfits ever designed was Chanel's classic, the little black dress.

And surely your attire tends to reflect something of yourself, your personality & mood on a particular day, not the personality of the deceased. If black feels right, then black you should be entitled to wear.

I hope when my time comes, mourners will come in whatever they feel comfortable in. They're welcome in black or a whole kaleidoscope of colours, in jeans or a smart suit, just don't feel obliged to wear black. And I hope, whatever they wear, they will celebrate my life in their hearts & remember me with love.