M had one of his long-distance, open water swims on Sunday so I was able to pack and do the SLJs before going to meet him and N at a local Golden Arches to pass E’s birthday present further along the chain of delivery. Then I drove up to Rattus Rattess’ to pay her for a couple of tickets for gigs after my return; she is an amiable soul – greeted me with a grumble about being late and not taking any wine!
With a slightly longer journey to the ferry on Monday I left with a bit of slack, the first bit of which I used by going the wrong way. Then, having filled up the main road was closed by the boys in blue, so need to follow the old road through market town and village. Next the M25 was its usual, world’s longest linear traffic jam – with added surface water looking as if I had been lucky with the promised showers. Until I turned on to the M3. I drove under a bridge dry and came out the other side in to the mother of all downpours. Stopping to put on my wettie layer cost me time and did little as I was already wet underneath. I was reminded of the laconic old Scillonian boatman a long while ago who, in his broad ‘Cornish’ drawl told a boatful of people that as most were grown-ups he wouldn’t tell us what to do but in our position he would put his wetties on whilst dry on the inside. A couple of not native English speakers missed his nuance but didn’t miss the first wave once outside the cover of the harbour wall. Oh how the rest of the passengers laughed.
Having reunited the prodigal glove with its partner (ibid) I had both pairs with me – but the ones that fit better under my storm mitts were already wet. A pretty conundrum – that was only resolved by hanging them on the line on Tuesday which was, fortunately, a good drying day.
The Hog’s Back link was clear but at Farnham there were road works – which did allow me to ask a rather masculine woman the time (for the second time in a week my gender identification system let me down). She didn’t take too much offence and I realised that all my slack had evaporated – 5 minutes less to drive than my rough calculation suggested I needed. Last vehicle at the check-in, first on board; if it hadn’t been for a few even later bikes i might even have been on pole.
Then we sat for forty-five minutes after sailing time until we were told of a delay… A warming glass of grog, a hot shower and a sleep made the greater part of the journey bearable but as I got up there was a pipe regarding a medical emergency and we throttled back to allow the emergency services to board. Eventually we docked some two hours late. Fortunately the roads were quiet in my direction and dry, so despite two brief pit stops I had a record-breaking run. What can often be a four hour journey took only three, it was on that milestone that I set the alarm and bedded down, all the on arrival jobs having been completed.
Alchy Annie’s big hate has had an effect – the lopsided tree has split a bough and now hangs to the ground:
The stonework job is right beside the tree so now I must sit and ponder which job to do first, after thinking about cutting the grass first, obviously. And then I must decide whether to climb the tree and sever the split branch in one or start from the bottom and keep removing it bit by bit. At least the apples are just about ripe – and Rattus Rattess gave me some of her home-grown rhubarb. With all these questions and a snotty, sniffly cold as a result of the soggy ride I fear a slow workrate. Plus ca change…
At least the cold has given me an excuse for hot toddies (as if I needed one). Making one in my big, bath sized Rosy Lee mug I think I may have misjudged the amount of that nice Mr. Jameson’s giggle juice; I did sleep well that night.
Thursday was a day of wildlife delights – three buzzards – one was so greedy, staying late picking at some roadkill that we almost collided as it flew off – and then a red squirrel in the garden of one set of neighbours! Add to that a close call on Friday morning with a rather lovely but not Green Cross Code aware deer, the month has started well for being at one with nature. The summer weather has also meant that tranquility has returned following the roar of the tractors harvesting; back to sleepy hollow.
It is slightly confusing with a surfeit of Lenas – FMC’s daughter is so named but also is the (ap)partner of John, a rather jovial Brummie chappie who lives locally. Unfortunately his Lena has been diagnosed with liver cancer and has returned home for treatment – he is due to follow when the Siberian winter has taken a stronger hold. We spent some time discussing Siberian winters and appropriate clothing.
Since Geo. got me on to including photos in my blog I have carried a small camera with me. Imagine my exasperation, to arrive here having booked my return ferry for four weeks hence, to discover that I had forgotten the damned thing. Having grumbled at mobile phone salespeople in the past about using a phone as a phone and having a camera for taking photographs. If he who laughs last truly laughs loudest I should be able to hear them from a very long way distant…
lk57hsc 