Taking a Slight Detour...

  Well, here we go again. I flew to Barcelona last week (Thursday to be precise) and immediately had a totally frustrating encounter with the Airport car park since I couldn't find the way out and Son was waiting outside in the car for me, ready to rush me to their new Apartment. Hah! Drawing a veil over that, we raced back to Barcelona at high speed and managed to arrive in time for Son and Partner to whisk off to a film presentation. It was something that Son had done the music for, so it was important for him to be there and I guess it was also a nice social event. Anyway, it meant that I had sole charge of Little Grandson for the evening (lovely) and he showed me round the new Apartment, including the outside space which has an enormous Avocado tree (with ripe avocados growing on it). I was pretty impressed with it all, and we then had soup and pasta for supper before collapsing in bed. Well, I collapsed and he went to sleep quite cheerfully after a Dinosaur story and a couple of songs.
     Next morning we were up betimes, as Grandson had an early hospital appointment, after which we were setting off to drive to France and look at the house I liked. Easier said than done of course, as the hospital appointment went on longer than expected  (they were checking him for Asthma and Allergies, which does take quite a while). And then the traffic going out of BCN was just awful.. Friday getaway I suppose. However, we did make good time, stopped for lunch at a French "Aire" where the food was excellent, and got to Bize Minervois just on time.
     The Estate Agent, the lovely Richard Pullen, was waiting most patiently for us, no mean feat  since he and his wife Chitra were planning to drive to  Barcelona (!) to visit their daughter who is at University there. Anyway, we all piled into the village house which I had loved at first sight. And Son did his very best to examine everything closely - as did I. I hadn't really done this the first time, and so needed to look at the details. I still  loved the house, and the space and feel of it, but I could see the impracticality of it. No central heating, no gas in the village, and the fact that the second floor was only accessible through the rest of the house - so not exactly right for letting or BnB. Son also spotted water stains in various places and was adamant that the small swimming pool, which is almost completely under cover, was not right either. All in all, a thumbs down for the house - which I had to agree with. And when we went out into the village for a walk about, at about 5pm on a Friday, and it was deserted! No shops open, no people about. So that was quite decisive for me - I  can't imagine living somewhere that felt so lonely. We walked by the river, and though it was really lovely, it was also deserted. And it was cold. In fact the whole weekend got gradually colder and wetter!
    To cut quite a long story short, we then found the Air BnB which Son had booked, and which was very nice and very comfortable. In the evening we drove to the restaurant I vaguely remembered in Le Somail (an organic restaurant right on the Canal du Midi). This was one of the highlights of the trip: lovely food and very welcoming. Little Grandson fell in love with our waitress Pauline and did drawings for her throughout the evening. And so to bed, knackered!!
    Next day, colder and wetter, Son decided we should take a look at Narbonne, which was only a short drive away. And lovely.. it is a beautiful small city which reminded me of Cambridge, and on the Canal too. So though I was disappointed about the house, I was immediately cheered by the thought of moving to Narbonne. Even the fact that it poured with rain while we walked around didn't deter me. We visited the Tourist Centre and looked in some lovely shops - and may I say Little Grandson was a pleasure to have around the whole time. We then drove around the area, and to the beach and the salt pans, where we tasted the different flavours of salt and then found the restaurant (which Son had discovered) in a derelict-looking wooden hut which turned out to be a fabulous seafood restaurant, crowded with French people enjoying huge platters of every kind of shellfish: we ate oysters, crab, prawns, sea snails (a bit too chewy for me) and all sorts of fresh fishy things - all mopped up with lovely french bread, and then topped off with ice dream for dessert. After that we drove back around beautiful countryside, past lovely vineyards and stopped to sample some of the wines too. A great afternoon even though the weather was awful.
   After supper at 'home' and a good night's sleep. we set off cheerfully next day, only stopping in Perpignan briefly as it was still very cold and  rainy. Perpignan, I have to say, was not a happy place. Everyone was so grumpy, and we met the archetypal bad-tempered French waiter when all we wanted was a warming cup of hot chocolate - no chance. The most exciting part was when Grandson discovered a market stall selling live snails - not that the poor things knew they were destined to be escargots! Anyway, we made a sharp exit from Perpignan and headed back to Barcelona!!
  Back in BCN, where incidentally it was also cold and rainy (it had been an unbelievable 5* there too) we touched base briefly before Son delivered me back to the Airport. Then a pretty unremarkable flight to Gatwick where Daughter was waiting to meet me. Home, to bed, and a couple of days feeling totally wiped out. Time to adjust, physically and emotionally, to a slight detour! 

Going where the Weather suits my Clothes...

       Well, this is another 'volte face' from me, and after another long absence. I'm moving, and not just back to Hove, but on to France! The last few months have been pretty stressful and I finally came to the conclusion that I need a complete change of scene: in fact a complete change of  Life. So in my absence from Blogging I've been exploring on the internet, in property magazines, and asking anyone who was willing for their advice and help. It turns out that people are mostly inclined to be very helpful, and so I found myself at the end of September whizzing off to the Canal du Midi area of France to meet some Estate Agents and look at a few properties. This entailed flying to Carcassonne, hiring a car from there and driving to Lezignan Corbieres where I was met by the lovely Lorna Roscow and her husband Jason, and sheperded to a dear little house in Fabrezan for a 3 night stay.
       ( I should say that the journey from here to Stansted was a bit of a nightmare, as the first train I boarded was cancelled before it even moved. Altogether the journey took more than 3 hours. And the train fare (£60.60 for a return) was more expensive than my return  flight to Carcassonne!! )
       Anyway, that aside it was lovely once I got to France  (after the unpleasant car-hire rip-off) and driving  in France was as good an experience as it usually is on their superb roads. Glorious weather, boiling hot, clear blue skies and friendly people. What more could I ask. The next day Lorna and Jason took me around and showed me 3 houses - one of which I had thought might be perfect and was a great disappointment - and a couple more which were nicer, but not quite right. ( I should tell you that my wish list contains 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms and a swimming pool, near the Canal du Midi.)  Thankfully they were happy to do the driving so I could look around at the villages and the countryside, and I'm absolutely sure that it's the perfect location...
      Next day I had another morning with Lorna and Jason, though nothing I saw quite hit the spot. And then the afternoon adventure began with a phone call from Richard Pullen (of Pullen Estates France) who was keen to show me 3 properties, and also to get me involved with a TV crew (French) who were doing a short piece on why English people might be buying property in France to escape from Brexit... Ho ho, I certainly fell into that category and so I was perfectly willing to be interviewed, tho' I didn't fancy the driving through unfamiliar territory to get there! Richard bravely and very kindly offered to come and collect me (and then drive me back) so that is what we did. And one of the houses I saw that afternoon may well be the one for me! I think the test for this is whether or not you can  picture yourself in the house and I can - I have been back here in boring Shoreham for nearly 3 weeks (18 days to be precise) and I am planning to go back to Bize Minervois very soon. Hopefully with Son who, if you recall, lives in Barcelona and is therefore only a two and a half  hour drive away from the house I like.  He has an unerring eye when it comes to property and I always value his opinion.  Fingers crossed....

Another month goes by..

      I can't believe I have let another month pass without writing anything. And tomorrow I am off again to Barcelona, this time taking my Big Grandson for a family visit. I'm so looking forward to it
and so is he. Not only because it is still lovely and warm in Barcelona, but also because we will be staying with Son, his Partner and little Grandson (who is tremendously excited by the way). This will be Big Grandson's first trip to Barcelona, and we are going to do the street art walking tours and probably also going to the Picasso Museum, as well as going to the beach and swimming in the sea. All these arty activities are because Big Grandson is going to be starting his GCSE years when he goes back to school, and one of his chosen subjects is Art with a capital A. He  has even been painting and generally experimenting with paint in the holidays. Some of his canvasses are really good in my opinion: he has used feathers and paint in a very interesting way.
     Yesterday we even trekked up to London to see the Frida Kahlo Exhibition at the V & A Museum. It was a bit of a mission because our train to London was cancelled, so we had to go from Shoreham to Brighton and then change on to a Victoria train so the journey took us 2 hours. I had joined the V & A as a Member in preparation for our visit, as the exhibition was completely sold out and pre-booked. It was worth it because as a Member I can take up to 4 children under 16 for free, and use the Members' Room - and there's no charge for entry to special exhibitions. Brilliant as far as I'm concerned and it really made the visit easier. Grandson really loved the Frida Kahlo and was so interested in her life, He made notes in his little book and was impressed with her clothes and jewelry: her artificial leg was the object of much fascination for both of us. It was incredibly decorated and somehow symbolized her bravery. She must have been in pain every day of her life, and she died at only 47. It was an amazing experience seeing all this come together, and Grandson bought paints and brushes as well  as postcards. He intends to put together a project on her, so watch this space.
      When we come back from Barcelona on 31st August, Daughter and family are moving again, to a larger house in Hove, and Grandson will have his own room again. They are literally moving the day after we come back, on 1st September. And then School starts again on 4th. Here we go again...

Bye bye July.

      I just can't believe we're at the end of July already. And the school holidays are upon us. Though this year my services have  not been required so far! Big Grandson, being now all of fourteen, has his own ideas of how he wants to spend his days and it's not exactly with his Nana doing nana-ish sort of things. He is going off with his (adopted) Dad for a week next week - they are going to be camping in France, just him and his Father's Father, which I'm sure will be fun. He will be doing French for one of his GCSE subjects, so hopefully they will be speaking a bit of French while they are there. When he comes back I'm planning a day in London at the V&A, including a look at the Frida Kahlo exhibition. He surprised me when I suggested it, thinking that he wouldn't know who she was, but he did and was delighted at the prospect of going. Art is another of his GCSE choices, and he has a pretty enlightened young Art Teacher whom we call Mr. Cool (mainly because he wears a cool leather jacket and rides a cool motorbike to school). I'm pretty sure that Frida Kahlo will be his cup of tea, and he will be interested in her life story. Anyway, that's a plan which meets with his approval so I need to book tickets. Otherwise he seems to be into "chillin" and meeting up with his friends, little Alfie, who comes up to his elbow, and big Kai who is the same huge size as Grandson and with whom he goes to Boxing  on Thursdays - so far so normal.
      Yesterday evening I went to look at a bicycle which was for sale, and  made the mistake of trying to ride it when I could see it was too big and too heavy for me. Haha, I promptly fell over, with the bike on top of me. I screamed and the sweet lady who was selling the bike looked very alarmed and
tried to help me up. I slowly felt around and discovered that I wasn't badly hurt. My chest was painful and I had a job getting up, but no bones broken and only a few bruises. That'll teach me - I really need to acknowledge that I am not as sprightly as I once was.
      Oops I seem to have slipped into August and that's typical of me - I start something and then wander off and forget about it. Ah well, happy August...

Stalled again..

      I don't know why but I can't seem to move in any direction at the mo! The possibility of selling this house came and went very quickly - though it was a positive experience because all the people who came to view were very impressed with what I have done. At least that's what they said after the Agent had shown them round (should that be shewn?), and there were 6 viewings in 2 weeks with one cash offer very close to the asking price. I felt that was a good result and though I definitely felt I couldn't move in a hurry, it did reassure me about the value of my house. After all I spent a great deal of money on refurbishing it, and in the current climate (what with Brexit etc) I wasn't sure about property values, even here in the South East, close to Brighton, which is usually a "hot spot". So a positive response, and I look around and feel that it was worth spending the money to make the house "perfect". Instead of spending a fortune on moving, I'm planning to spend it on nice trips and fun!!
      Big Grandson will be pleased anyway,  because although he would like me to be living next door  to Daughter and Co, he doesn't want me to sell this house - not surprising I guess because when he stays with me he has his own bedroom and bathroom, and I simply let him be which is important for teenagers I think. Yes he plays on his XBox a lot, but we always balance that with stuff we do together, like eating supper and watching a movie :)) - sometimes even playing Scrabble -  and his Mum does limit his game time, which is good. I was listening this morning to a programme on Radio 4 about children with addiction problems related to their phones, screens and social media in general. It's difficult to deal with and obviously something to be aware of and guard against..
      The first trip I'm planning is another Barcelona jolly with the very same Big Grandson. I'm just looking at flights and we are going for a week at the end of August, the week before he goes back to school. We are planning to stay with Son and family in Barcelona and will do some lovely things I'm sure. They are five minutes from the beach and the weather should still be hot. One thing we won't be doing is taking his X Box!
      P.S. I have been watching and listening to the golf over the weekend, as it sort of helps me through my football withdrawal symptoms! One of the commentators happened to mention that "Harry Kane, England Captain" was among the spectators. I felt immensely cheered by that - there he was, apparently wearing sunglasses, enjoying some time off watching the Open. What Larks! 
   

The Heat is ON.

       What a Summer we are having, It's so hot - too hot for many people - and there's the World Cup too. It certainly is a July to remember. I'm quite  happy to stay out of the sun and watch football, but I have also had a couple of lovely days on the beach at Rustington with one of my Best Friends, and we have swum in the sea too. It's glorious and much too good to miss.
       This evening it's going to be the first semi-final of the World Cup, with France playing Belgium. It's bound to be a tough game, and I'm having a job deciding who to support - especially since we (England) will be facing the winners tomorrow in our semi-final. Throughout this tournament I have been cheering for the team which had either a Spurs, or ex-Spurs player, and in this instance both teams have Spurs connections! It's a tricky one! France have Lloris as their Captain and goalie, and as he is the current Spurs goalkeeper, I guess I'll go with France. However, just to complicate matters further, I am going out for dinner this evening too - meeting a BBF at 8pm at Cote in Brighton, which is lovely, but I'm already making plans to arrive early and pop into the Pub opposite where they have a large screen for the footie. If I time it right, I can arrive at 7pm, watch the first half there and then just pop across the road at half time for our supper. And then I'll just have to catch up with the second half later...
       But tomorrow evening, I'll be glued to the England game and unable to focus on anything else except our brave boys and their Manager. Am I the only one who was confident that they would do well in this World Cup? I was certainly in a minority but I have been optimistic about their chances from the beginning. I'm naturally positive and could see that the combination of a young. intelligent Manager with a young and very talented squad would have a good chance. And it has been good to see the pundits growing in confidence too. Lineker, Shearer and Co have also cheered up hugely and are obviously daring to hope for a trophy. There has been none of that awful negativity of previous years.  Yes, it has been a surprising World Cup in that many of the old favourites were knocked out, but maybe it's time they were. Goodbye to Ronaldo, Messi and Co and hello to Kane, Alli and Co.. Gareth Southgate may be guilty of starting a fashion in M & S waistcoats but who cares if he can lead our young Lions to Victory. Come on England!!
   

En-ger-land..

      Well, I don't suppose I'm the only one writing about the football today. Last night I was glued to the television, just like millions of other fans, and going through very hell as our team fought its way to the quarter finals of the World Cup! And fought it was - I don't think I have seen quite as many deliberate fouls on and off the ball as we witnessed last night. I suppose I should have felt sorry for the poor referee who was mobbed by Colombian players every time he made a decision they didn't like. And there were plenty of those. Our boys, though, were magnificent and mostly kept their cool.
Of course the fact that the Spurs have five players in the England Squad is a matter of great pride to me, and my family. And they all played so well - three of them scoring in the final penalty shoot-out:
Harry Kane, Kieran Trippier and the heroic Eric Dier. What an excitement it was. and what a great result. Now we have to wait for the quarter final match against Sweden on Saturday. And as I have been watching the World Cup every day since it started, I'm already suffering withdrawal symptoms.
Wimbledon is no consolation either, though I expect I will take more notice of it next week.
      The hot (boiling) weather has luckily coincided with the World Cup, so I have  had the perfect excuse to stay out of the sun. Our grass is dry and burned off, and the poor plants are all gasping. I do give them some water, but it's impossible to give them enough. At the weekend I did go to a friend's beach hut in Rustington, which is fairly near, and had a glorious swim in the sea. It was my first swim of the year and just perfect on such a hot day. We also did those traditional "Beach Hut" things like making cups of tea and chasing her dog. And she was doing mini housekeeping in the hut.  It was very funny, and we laughed a lot.
      Moving on, I seem to be undecided about moving on. I was quite sure until last week when Big Grandson said he likes it here, and as he spends quite a lot of time here, that's important. In fact he stayed with me for the week last week as his Mum and the New Bloke went off for a few days holiday to the Isle of Wight. We got on very well and didn't have a single argument which he said was a novelty. Mind you, that house is so crowded what with New Bloke, his oldest Son of 18 and the dog living there permanently, with Daughter, Big Grandson and Granddaughter. And New Bloke's daughter who is 5, comes for weekends. We only need Old Uncle Tom Cobbley and all to top it off - it's no wonder they argue when they must be tripping over each other all the time.
    Ah well, nothing's perfect, I'm just glad it's not me sharing one bathroom with that lot!

Mothers and Grandmothers.....

    Last week I put both feet in it, regarding my lovely Barcelona family. I was thinking of going out for a few days, and hoping to help with my little Grandson, when Son's Partner had to fly off to Warsaw because her very elderly Grandmother was poorly and not likely to live much longer. To cut a long and complicated story short, I sent a loving message of condolences to both my Son's Partner and her Mother before the beloved Grandma had actually died. This was not my fault, because someone else had anticipated the event, but nevertheless, I did actually send the messages before checking. Oh dear! Many heartfelt moments later I was sending apologies and feeling dreadful. It's lucky for me that my family are so understanding, so that when the dear Grandmother did pass away, a couple of days later, I was able to send a very sincere message without feeling a complete fool. Once again, a Mother's place was in the wrong - I should expect it by now!
    And I'm not off to BCN in the immediate future because it's Big Grandson's 14th Birthday on 30th, and his Half Term too, so I imagine I will be on duty here for the holidays.
   Well, it's  the Royal Wedding today, and a lovely day for it. I'm not watching it at the mo, writing this instead, but I'm listening to the radio, so I guess I'm semi-involved. When you think of it, Ms Markle is just about the furthest she could be from the traditional royal bride: she's divorced for a start, and 'mixed race' as it is politely put, she is older than Harry by a year or two and she has been a star of the small screen (in old-fashioned terms, a show-girl). If only she was Jewish as well, we would have the full set! But it just shows how far our own Royal Family, and our society as a whole, have come in adapting to real, modern life. I'm immensely cheered by the fact that it shows an overall tolerance which was certainly not the case in previous years.
      Having watched the ceremony - irresistible really - I'm even more impressed with the way their two cultures have been intertwined for the occasion. I could have done without the extra-long white train on the white dress, but otherwise the new Duchess looked just lovely. I was also impressed with her Mother - when you think that this lady had flown across the Atlantic on her own, met the Queen of England for tea yesterday, and is now sitting watching her daughter marry a Prince in St. George's Chapel at Windsor Castle, it could all have been overwhelming, but she is somehow both modest and dignified, beautifully dressed in an understated way and thoroughly calm in the situation. I'm not one for religious ceremonies, but the Evangelical Bishop from America was a regular blast of fresh air, and the Gospel Choir singing 'Stand by Me' was genius. A final thought from me: Blimey, Meghan Markle, a divorced, mixed race American television actress is now a Duchess and has the Queen of England as her Grandmother-in-Law! It's the stuff of fairy tales.
      My favourite bit is the celebrity watching (the Beckhams and George Clooney in particular), and I intend to do a bit more of that before I switch off and watch the Cup Final. I'll be cheering for Chelsea I think, only because it's better to have a team to cheer for, and I'm not a great fan of  'the Chosen One'. If Man U don't win he will be so grumpy...I wonder what his Mother is like?

Shakin' all Over...

      I've got one of  those days when I'm extremely shaky and can't seem to do anything about it. Luckily typing and driving aren't impaired by this, and I'm not sure why it should be  so bad today!
The only possible cause I think is the news I got yesterday that my lovely maisonette in Hove  is on the market again! After a scant three years!  And I lived in it and loved it for 13 years. I feel both sad and angry about it, though why it should rankle ((great word) I'm not sure. It does though, because I believed that the lady who bought it from me loved it too - though she did proceed to change just about everything so perhaps that was a clue!  She put in three new bathrooms, a new fitted kitchen, and painted the whole place white - so most of the character it had was promptly diluted. Apparently she has kept my fabulous chandeliers, which is some comfort, though that may be because she can't reach them. Ah well, I know I'm planning to leave here in search of somewhere that feels more like home, so perhaps she is doing the same. We are all different after all..
      Watch out Prince Harry and Meghan Markle, they have fixed their wedding date for 19th May, and I can only warn them that this may not be an auspicious day. According to folk lore, marrying in May is not advisable, and I can vouch for that: my first (!) marriage was on Friday 19th May 1961, and what a disaster that was. We were married at Caxton Hall in London, which was very smart, and I wore a pink silk suit and a black (designer) hat. The week before, my Sister's fiance had been killed in a horrible car accident (although she was amazingly unhurt) so there was already a pall literally hanging over the event. I have to say it went from bad to worse after that and lasted a mere 15 months, which was more than enough for me. And I recoiled from marriage so completely afterwards that I didn't contemplate doing it again until 1975!  Still, that's only my experience and it was all a long time ago - I'm sure the young Royals will be fine, and I wish them every happiness.

Memories on a Sunny Day..

       At last the sun is really shining and it's actually warm. My little garden has a show of spring flowers and if my mobile phone hadn't died on me, I would try to put on a couple of photos for you.
The little darling blooms really cheered me up yesterday, and I sent some photos of  tiny bouquets to friends and family. Alas, soon after that I dropped the poor phone again (the screen was already badly cracked) and it turned out to be terminal. Annoyingly, the phone still rings but the screen remains resolutely blank and I can't answer it. Daughter and Son both came to the rescue and I will have a new mobile later today - a replacement was long overdue.
      I am also about to sort out my computer so that I can back up the writing I am doing now. Having started this 'Memoir' in Barcelona, I am determined to carry on with it. I stayed four weeks in Barcelona, and have now been back four weeks - and in that time I have written (and edited) just over fifteen thousand words. I make that seven thousand five hundred words a month, which is not bad. But I do need to keep motivated: it has taken me seventy-odd years to get on with it so I reckon there's not a lot of time left to finish it. I guess there is more to write about the older you get, but my question is, how interesting will it be? And of course there's the stuff you forget, and the unreliability of our memories. I have compared notes with my Sister, and it's amazing how differently we recall events - there we were growing up in the same family, in the same place and at the same time, and yet our experiences and perceptions are often completely different. There is only eighteen months between us, so you would think that our memories would be similar - no such luck!
       Anyway, the main purpose of getting the stuff on paper is to give my children and grandchildren a sense of their own personal histories. We have only the smallest scraps of information about our family, and the memories I have mostly come from repeated stories and a few old photographs - surprisingly there are no letters or written notes, and considering that my Grandparents all wrote letters and there were two or even three postal deliveries every day too it's odd that none of them survive. So in putting this together, my hope is that my family will read it and know where they have come from, even if they don't know where they are going!
     

Oh Dear...

        I'm adrift, in the doldrums, not knowing which way to turn, in other words, up a gum tree! It may be Spring, but I don't feel like springing anywhere. Sad, because I came back from Barcelona full of life and plans for the future - only to be met with many reasons why I can't just take off; the main one being my big Grandson, who would be pretty devastated if I suddenly wasn't here to be backstop when he needs a safe, secure place to stay. I, it seems, am it! This is not really such a surprise to me, simply a reminder that family ties are the strongest and can't just be abandoned. Neither should they. What would we be without them - I can't imagine how I would feel now if I had no-one as family - that  must be a very lonely place, so if I have to hold back on escape plans for now, it's not the end of the world. I can move house, just not too far!
      The other day I was talking with my BBF (Brighton Best Friend) about sleep and dreams. She now sleeps very well, having had a long time when she didn't. It was a surprise to her when I said  just how important dreams are to our overall health. I only know this because I have read quite a lot about the research that has gone into the subject. She was convinced that she doesn't dream, but I told her that if she didn't dream she would probably be pretty ill. Apparently our dreams are actually the essential part of sleep - we can survive being deprived of ordinary sleep, but if we are deprived of our dreaming time, we quickly become very ill indeed. Some of the sleep trials I read about had to be stopped for this very reason. Ironical then that I had one of the most vivid and horrible dreams the very next night. I woke myself up at about 3.30am;  I was shouting "GET out, Get OUT" and thrashing about so violently that I knocked over my bedside table with its load of books, reading lamp, radio etc. All of which is very heavy. It scared me a bit, as I was shaking and had completely lost my voice! I don't know exactly what it meant because I couldn't recall the whole dream, but I have no doubt that was me somehow trying to put all the latest trials and tribulations in order. My voice is still shaky two days later, and I'm taking it easy....
     Yesterday I made the mistake of keeping a date I had for lunch with two of the ladies who live practically next door. As I had volunteered to chauffeur us to the lunch, I didn't feel that I could cry off at the last minute, and thankfully my dodgy voice meant I couldn't talk much.  But oh! I won't
be doing it again. The 'Carvery' we drove to in the country, was enormous and packed with people of a certain age, all stuffing their faces. The phrase 'pigs at the trough' came to mind, and I could hardly bear to look at the mountains of food they had on their plates. If we are all 'digging our graves with our knives and forks' this was the perfect example. I ate very little and came back feeling rather sick.
    And on that joyful note, I'm off. I hope I haven't depressed you too much....

..Happy Easter Bunnies

        Oh dear, Easter is upon us and it's still cold and dreary here. I'm sitting at my table on this grey day and wishing myself back in the sunshine of Spain. My Barcelona family have gone on an Easter trip away from the city and are in Calella de Palafrugell for a few days. They have sent me some divine photos, plus Easter wishes, and I must say that I would much rather be there enjoying the warm sun.
      The rest of my family, the Hove branch, have gone off to an Easter event which is in a park somewhere  and involves clues and hunting for all sorts of things,  probably Easter eggs included. I opted out of this as there are I think at least a dozen of them going - including new Man and his children, sisters, cousins, nephews and nieces, the dog and Uncle Tom Cobbley and all! My Daughter, big Grandson and little Granddaughter will be there of course, but I felt I would be decidedly out of my comfort zone, so here I am talking to you instead.
       I may take a trip to the Garden Centre, though I don't feel inclined to buy any plants at the mo.
It's just too cold and wintry to expose anything tender to the elements. And I don't feel inclined to add anything to my garden just now - at least I have the Spurs match to watch later: it's the Chelsea vs Spurs game at 4pm, so I'll be glued to the Live Streaming!
       I have decided in my head that I won't be living here in the future - I need to move to somewhere I can feel at home. This feeling has come upon me gradually, but is now a certainty.  I have realised that I am living in a place that doesn't feel like home, and we all know how important that feeling is. It may take a while for  me to find the right place, but as I have always managed to do so in the past, I'm sure it will come to me. You may think I'm crazy to be even considering all this moving stuff again after only three short years, but it's no good! Lovely as this house is, it's in the wrong place and has the wrong feeling. I've tried to feel at home here, but it doesn't work. For a start I'm surrounded by old ladies and though I'm probably considered to be just that, I don't feel like it, and probably never will. You won't catch me staggering around on a stick or going into a Care Home: over my dead body is all I can say!  And, as I'm sure you know, it's hard living somewhere you don't feel a part of.  Looking back, I have lived the longest in places I have loved: after my childhood home in Hornchurch  (which was an Essex village then) 20 years, there was Randolph Crescent in Little Venice (12 years), Bateman Mews in Cambridge (15 years) and then New Church Road in Hove (13 years). All the other places were stop-gaps, and when they weren't right I stayed for a maximum of 4 years in each! That says it all to me. So look out, here I come, looking for yet another place to call Home.                                                                                                 
       
 

Home Again, Home Again,Jig Jig Jig.

      I can't say I'm happy to be back in cold old Shoreham-by-Sea. It's blooming freezing and looks rather dreary after Barcelona. At least Daughter came to pick me up at Gatwick, which was lovely of her because there was plenty of snow still hanging about and otherwise my journey back home could have been rather miserable. She was looking very beautiful and full of beans: she seems pretty happy at the moment, and feels that she is in a good place. I really think that my being away for a whole month was good for everyone concerned. Daughter and big Grandson have managed everything just fine without me interfering (or 'helping' as I like to think of it) and though he has given up on Air Cadets while I was away, I'm not entirely unhappy with that. With the way the world is going, I'd actually rather he wasn't in a para-military organisation.
     My flight back from Barcelona was fine, a bit delayed but the Captain  managed to catch up the time and was very jolly when he told us about it. The plane was half full of teenage Spanish boys and girls who were obviously headed for language courses in England. They were a very jolly lot too, and cheered loudly when we landed.
      I have been home for a couple of days now, and I'm delighted to report that, despite missing the Barcelona lot and not liking the cold one bit, I am still keeping up the writing. I'm also looking at property for sale in Barcelona! I wish! As I always say, I'll keep you posted.

Bye Bye Barcelona..

       Typically, on my last day in Barcelona, I woke to a deep blue sky and glorious sunshine. It has been cold and grey grumpy weather for just about the whole month I have been here, so this morning was both a joy and an irritation. Anyway we had planned a day outing to the beach for St.Patrick's Day celebrations which were again typically weird, or so I thought. Where I wonder is the connection with St. Patrick and a rowing race between three handmade boats, out on a decidedly choppy sea in  Barcelona? It's true that the commentator was actually Irish, though he was on a microphone in the roped off compound which was barely in sight of  the sea, let alone the actual race. And to do him  justice he did tell a few dreadful Irish jokes. There was Guinness on sale, just about the only drink, and there were burgers. In the end my curiosity got the better of me and I walked down to the jetty where the action was, just in time to see the next lot of three handmade boats set off for their race. The sea was so choppy that the boats kept disappearing, and I was lucky enough to witness the drama of the afternoon, when one of the boats actually capsized and a handy powerboat was called out to the rescue. It was pretty dramatic and the hapless craft was hoisted on to the powerboat and delivered safely back to rousing cheers. All great fun, but how on earth it's connected to St. Patrick beats me.
      Today Grandson was Spiderman all day - and he didn't stop running and jumping while were at the beach. Son is in London for a week so we didn't have his calming influence, but all their friends were there, and they are a lovely bunch. Most of the couples are one half English, and their children generally speak at least two languages: English/French, English/Polish, English/Spanish etc, and of course the children are going to Spanish schools and Nurseries, so they are absorbing both Spanish and Catalan at the same time. The net result of all this is that sitting on the beach is like being at a multi-lingual festival, and it's very impressive to have a 3 year old translating for you. My little Grandson regularly turns to me and says "That's Polish Nana" when he and his Mum are deep in conversation.
     I'll be leaving this perfect apartment with regret. It has been just wonderful to sit at my laptop and write in a calm and peaceful environment without distractions and interruptions. And without feeling parental, or grandparental, duties looming. I've started something, so I mean to finish.
     And now, back to packing ready for tomorrow. Bye bye Barcelona...   
   

Running out of Wine.

      It's a terrible state of affairs to be without wine - it's only temporary of course,  but I haven't got the energy to go out now and rectify it because it's pitch dark outside and there's a pretty fierce dog next door that makes a terrible racket when anyone opens the door. Never mind, I'll have to grin and bear it and at least I have chocolate..
      The weather here in Barcelona still hasn't got over the sulks. Yesterday it started off looking much brighter, but as soon as I decided to get out and sit on the open-topped Tourist Bus it took a turn for the worse and was decidedly chilly. I sat it out though, determined to get the best possible view of the City, and it was worth  it. I sat next to a very adventurous and chatty young American woman who was doing a whirlwind tour of Europe: one day in Barcelona, one day in Rome, one day in Florence - you get the picture. I had to admire her stamina. She got off the bus at the Sagrada Familia, which I have seen before and is utterly astonishing. I wished  her good luck and off she went in good spirits.
      I was heading for Parc Guell, the place to see Gaudi's works in a lovely wooded setting, but what I didn't realise was that it would mean practically climbing a mountain to get there. I did it though and wandered round marvelling at such eccentric and stunning works. As I have said  before, I don't really do sight-seeing, but rather enjoy going at my own pace and stopping when I want. I was doing fine until I got lost and wandered off up a mountain path in totally the wrong direction. It took a while and a few Catalan directions to set me straight, but I made it back to  the bus stop and sank gratefully into a comfy seat for the rest of the Tour. Once again, I was so pleased to get back "home" and relax with a glass of wine. Oh no - I didn't need that reminder. Perhaps I will venture out...

Another Mother's Day

    Another Mothering Sunday and this one I'm spending in Barcelona with Son and little Grandson. Son's partner is in Warsaw for the weekend, with her Mother and Grandmother who is very poorly. She is very old - in her nineties - and seems to be fading away. It is inevitable, I know, but nevertheless very sad.
    I woke up very early thinking (wrongly) that the clocks had sprung forward! So I had a lazy cup of tea in bed, and then a very tearful phone call from Daughter, who was terribly upset that I was not with her - for the first time in her life!! She was sobbing, and obviously feeling quite desolate. It didn't help that neither of  her children were there either, having spent the night with the latest ex-partner, father of Gracie and adopted Father of Will. Oh God, life is so complicated these days. I could do very little from here but commiserate and send long distance love.
    Later, after a very nice croissant and coffee in my local cafe, I wandered over to Son's apartment, where he was entertaining not just one, but two small boys: one of grandson's little friends was staying for the weekend as his jet-setting parents had gone off for a party in Ireland.. So Son was coping with two small children on his own on Mother's Day (and the night had been a bit of a nightmare as they hadn't slept very well). To add to the general chaos, the little visitor had a stomach bug and was having to rush to the loo very frequently. Poor little chap, he was pretty good-natured about it, and when we all went out for a bit of lunch, he coped very well and managed to eat his burger without any problems. All I can say is it brought back memories of many a Mother's Day spent alone with my small children, and though it was sometimes a bit lonely, each one was lit up with their love, hugs and special little gifts and cards. I had to laugh when little Grandson said, with feeling, "We don't have to do a card do we?"  How things  have changed.
    Yesterday it was nice and sunny here, for a change, and I decided to set off and do a bit of sight-seeing and also go in search of a little hand- painted bowl to replace the one which has been chipped by Grandson. But oh, I'm the world's worst tourist - I'm rubbish at sight-seeing and I don't much like shopping, which is what it seems to be about. I wandered up and down the Ramblas, and once was enough for me. I sat down to gaze around at intervals and did see some amazing buildings, but on the whole I'm not cut out to be a tourist. I finally dragged myself back home, having become an expert on the glittery kind of Spanish ceramics that I wouldn't give houseroom to (sorry, I think that's a split infinitive). So pleased was I to get back here that I made a celebratory cup of tea and then promptly fell asleep on the sofa.

Here comes the sun. Or not...

      At last, the sun is shining  here in Barcelona. We have blue skies and just tiny little puffs of white cloud here and there. I walked down to the beach this morning, and the sea was a glittering rich blue, with little sailing boats dotted about. There was a stiff offshore breeze and yet the sun was very warm. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of the City: the whoosh of constant cars along the coast road, and the distant wail of an ambulance winding its way across town. A City by the sea is a strange combination of sounds and textures, and Barcelona is a good example - as indeed is Brighton when I'm at home.
     The trouble with walking away from a post is that most probably everything will have changed by the time you come back!  And sure enough it's cloudy and cold again today and was raining when I went out for my Cortado and Croissant this morning, I have a lovely corner cafe just a short stroll from my apartment, and I have become a breakfast regular there. It's really nice to have a smile and a Spanish hello (Hola!) when I walk in, and now I have been accorded the greeting " Un Cortadito?", or "a little Cortado" -  which is just a friendlier version. By the way, if you should come to Barcelona, I can recommend La Tornada, on the corner of Carrer Zamora, in the Olympic City. Great coffee.
      Don't talk to me about last night's football though. I was invited over to Son's apartment for a bite of supper (a super risotto) a glass of wine (pale rose) and a European Football match between the Spurs and Juventus (the Italian Champions) and it ended in defeat for the Spurs. I suppose they have to lose some matches, and they have had a good winning streak, but I find it hard to grin and bear it.
      Introspection haunts me when I'm away from home, and this trip is no exception. I ponder on where I have fallen short, and how wrong I have been on so many occasions. Having the time and space for this, it just falls like an avalanche and smothers me with regrets. But on a healthier note, my plans for the future are taking shape. I'm deciding not to go backwards, but forwards. This probably means not going back to Hove and the same old pattern. Is it too late for this? I hope not. Time will tell.  . 


   

Spring?

       Here we are on  the second day of Spring, and it certainly isn't anything like it here in Barcelona, never mind good old  Blighty, where it seems there are the worst conditions since World War 2!  Weather-wise, we are hopeless in the UK, and it only takes a puny couple of inches of snow to put all  our services and means of transport in jeopardy. I'm listening to Radio 4 as I type this, and really it seems that we have become a nation of total softies, who can't manage without our central heating. This brings back memories from my youth (OK so that was a hundred years ago) when we lived in a semi-detached house which had no central heating, like every other house in the road! We had a fire in our 'dining' room which had a back boiler, so we only had hot water when the fire was lit. The rest of the time we boiled a kettle on the gas and sat round the fire to keep warm and listen to the wireless. I can still light a decent fire and often do, but I wonder how many young people could do the same if it became really necessary.
       My Sister and I slept in a double bed with eiderdowns piled on top in winter, and every morning when we woke up there were frosty fern patterns inside the window..(We breathed on them so that we could see out into the garden.) We hopped out of bed pretty smartly to wash down in the unheated bathroom (with hot water from the kettle) and get dressed. I'm not saying that it was great, I'm simply saying that was the norm then, and  though we now have all our lovely home comforts, I'm not sure that they have improved our quality of life as much as we think. We were certainly tougher then, and didn't expect everything to be done for us, as seems to be the case today. Anyway, old moaner that I undoubtedly am, I would rather like to see some of the old British spirit surfacing when snow strikes.
      I was watching the Spurs vs Rochdale FA Cup replay on Wednesday evening through a live stream with Son in the comfort of his apartment, while Daughter was at Wembley in what looked like a blizzard. It was a very exciting match, despite or maybe because of the weather, and the Spurs won 6 -1 in the end. Son and I were looking out for Daughter on the telly, but didn't spot her in the crowd and I have to say that for most of the second half we couldn't even see the ball on the screen.
    Ah well, who could have expected that we'd have snow in Winter?   
     

Holding Back Time

      Yesterday morning after a lovely late breakfast with my Barcelona family, I took a walk to the beach. It was a warm sunny day and as I sat watching the Sunday people promenading, I couldn't help thinking that we are all, one way or another, trying to hold back time. There were beautiful young people everywhere, running, jogging, skating and playing beach volleyball,  all with so much energy, and all fighting a losing battle! Even the very little ones, so delightful and full of beans on their little bikes and scooters are rushing headlong into a future they can't contain. The little ones want to be older, the older ones want to be younger and fitter, but we are all heading towards the same place, unavoidably. I understand why older men want younger women partners, (and vice versa) because it gives the illusion of more years, more time to spend or fritter away - because that's what we are all doing. As I watched the throngs of people, the little boats bobbing in the sun, the paddle boarders, and all humanity, it was something of a revelation to me - and I hope not a depressing one for you. Personally I found it strangely comforting, but perhaps that's because I'm fairly well adjusted to getting older - and I'm doing it mostly alone. Really, there's no choice so we may as well enjoy it.
      It was the perfect weekend for those of us who are mad about football. I just love watching it, and used to love playing it with big Grandson. Sadly for  me, I can't run any more, and that upsets me - but anyway I can watch my beloved Spurs, and even from here I can manage to Live Stream the matches I want to see. Son and I had a bit of a pantomime sorting it out but in the end we were able to watch the winning goal for the Spurs (good old Harry Kane - though he's only 24) and see the Arsenal soundly beaten by Manchester City at Wembley.  And because Chelsea lost their match with Manchester United,  we moved up to 3rd in the Premier League. Good results all round (as long as you don't support the Arsenal). The football was accompanied by a very tasty Bolognese supper (at Son's apartment at half time!) and then small Grandson throwing himself around the sitting room in a regular fury of energy just before he went to bed. And then I strolled 'home' to my apartment. where I sat with a glass of wine in utter peace and comfort. Lucky me...
   
   

Chilly in Barcelona

      Believe it or not, it's pretty cold here. I'm very glad I brought some warm clothes, because I'm actually wearing them. It's rather different from New Year, when we were boiling hot on the beach and I was stripping off and paddling in the sea - no chance of that at the mo, though I don't mind at all. I'm planning to do some serious writing while I'm here,  so at least the sun is not tempting me out.
      Son and Partner are currently choosing a school here for when Grandson is ready to go. There are apparently many to choose from within their area, and so they are doing school visits while I'm here to help with the little one.  Last evening we all went to an open evening, which was so crowded there were no spare seats, and since the whole presentation was in Spanish, much of it was lost on Son,, It went on for over an hour after which there was a tour of the school. And they are doing 10 or 11 of these. It is a bit of a lottery here, rather like at home, and there are obviously more schools available
but as always, so much seems to hang on making the right decision.
     Anyway it was all a bit tiring for everyone. We went for a quick pizza & pasta afterwards, which was nice, but everyone was exhausted (they had done a full day's work and Grandson had done a day at Nursery) so not surprisingly Grandson was rather poorly today. He is now here with me, dozing in my bed surrounded by his polar bear, tigger and mouse. He has had a dose of Calpol, or the Spanish equivalent, and his poor parents have gone off to yet another School presentation.
     It's a hard life and I'm rather glad to be here in the warm chatting to you..
   
     

Time Out..

   Well here I am with my laptop, a cup of tea and Radio 3, getting used to being in my own apartment in Barcelona. Though you could say that I'm hardly out of my comfort zone with all those 'home' comforts. The weather is also making me feel quite at home because it's overcast, not the sunny Barcelona I've become accustomed to in previous visits. Anyway, it is lovely to be here, in an apartment which is truly an artist's studio - a huge open space with floor to ceiling windows, a shiny marble floor, enormous paintings leaning nonchalantly around the walls and a jungle of very large green plants in very large pots between me and the windows. I love it.
   I arrived yesterday and was collected at the airport by a smiling Son, who whisked me here to drop my luggage before we went to collect grandson from Nursery. I don't know who was more excited, him or me (Grandson I mean - Son managed to contain his excitement). Then we all went on a magic shopping trip to their favourite organic supermarket where I wandered around in a bit of a daze and managed to forget several of the essentials (milk, water, chocolate) but did buy enough stuff to keep body and soul together (bread and wine in particular).
   I slept very soundly last night in this new place, and woke at 9 feeling rather strange but happy. I made a cup of tea by boiling water in a saucepan (can't reach the kettle which I finally located on top of a very tall cupboard) drank it without milk (!) and then negotiated the shower pretty successfully.
I finally got out of the house at about midday, and sat outside a nearby cafe with a cortado and a lovely little croissant. Heaven knows why we don't have these delightful little street cafes serving perfect coffee and perfect little pastries without any fuss, climate I suppose, but it is all so civilised.
   I think I'll go for another walk and acclimatise myself a bit more - there's a spot of sun coming out and it looks rather inviting. I'm only a 10 minute stroll from Son's apartment and just a bit further from the beach. I'll be back later with more jottings from Barcelona..
   
   

"Men may come and men may go..."

  "... But children are forever"
   Those wise words were spoken by an old friend of mine, many years ago when all of our children were pretty young. And the words came from our experiences. We were reflecting, in our relative maturity, on the ephemeral nature of our (failed) relationships with husbands and lovers, when compared with the lifelong commitment that bringing up children requires.
   Of course, this was a long time ago and, sadly, our friendship didn't last either. But I have been reminded of just those feelings by what is happening with Daughter right now. She has dived into
yet another relationship and I am watching from the sidelines and can't help noticing that Grandson seems to be getting the short end of the stick. He is 13, and I know how tricky the teenage years are, but the nice house, which was meant for Daughter, Grandson and little Granddaughter to live in while they recovered a bit from the previous failed relationship, is now stuffed full with new Man plus his three children (not full time at least) and a dog. It's just too much and it is getting to Grandson. He is having to share his bedroom with new Man's 18 yr old, (who is perfectly nice,but virtually a stranger) in what is an already overcrowded space, and is also being compared, unfavourably, with the new Man's children,  He has been to stay with me for a couple of days over half term, just to get a bit of peace - but of course he eventually wants to go back home because he loves his Mum and misses her. I do worry about him, and I know that Daughter is trying to keep everything together. I  hope she puts her children first - though you may disagree with  me - I just know how hard it is for children to adapt with regard to adult relationships. I can see that the "new Man" is getting his feet under the table, and probably sees Grandson as the opposition! And that I can't bear.
   I delivered Grandson back home last evening and literally watched him change as we got closer.  I was driving, but I could feel the tension in him. It was as if he was putting on armour in readiness for the encounter. Poor lad, at 13 he's absolutely not equipped to deal with competition for his Mother's affections (and that is surely what it is).  I think it's all too much.
   I probably feel worse about it because I am about to go off to Barcelona again for a prolonged stay and I worry that Grandson will be unhappy while I'm away. Of course I may be wrong (I usually am) but I think that expecting young boys to "get on with it" and "man up" is the worst possible thing for them. Just when they are becoming aware of their emotions, it tells them to smother their feelings and can only lead to more failed relationships in the future, and to emotional upheavals of one sort or another. I do know that whatever one does can be construed as 'wrong' just because they need rebellion of some sort. But I want to avoid permanent damage for Grandson - he has had so much upheaval in his young life already:  his Mum has had so many boyfriends, he has had too many potential "Dads" (and two real ones), he has moved both house and school so many times that I feel he has too much bubbling under the surface that is bound to come out at some time.
I just hope it doesn't happen when I'm away -at least if I'm around to pick up the pieces it might help.
   Of course all this is what I would say to Daughter if we could just sit down together and talk calmly about the situation. Alas, I lack the courage. She is my baby and so I love her unconditionally. If I do interfere I will only be in the wrong again, and she will tell me that everything is fine,
   Oh for a magic wand to wave!

A Friday to Monday..

Of course, a "Friday to Monday" is the posh version of a weekend, which for you and me is usually just Saturday and Sunday. Anyway, I was lucky enough to have Son and his family here actually from Friday to Monday, and as they had been 'busy busy' in London for the previous week they were looking forward to a restful time, and to catching up with Daughter and her family. - though I'm not too sure that the two things were conducive to each other .
  As it happened, we all met up at the new Crazy Golf at the Marina on Saturday (luckily all under cover as it was a foul day) and had great fun. There were 8 of us, including 2 three-year-olds, big Grandson who's 13, the two couples and me - so all the generations were represented, and perhaps fortunately Daughter's new bloke didn't bring any of his three children - or the dog! (And anyway I suspect dogs would not be allowed.) As you can imagine, it was a mixed event, with big Grandson mostly acting as referee with the three yr olds, and the rest of us trailing along behind. We were split into two teams (four girls and four boys) and I won the girls' event, with Son winning the boys'.. Afterwards we all retired to Cafe Rouge for a coffee and by then the ice was broken (if there was any to begin with) between the two  families. It's not easy especially when Son and his lot live in Barcelona now and Daughter has a frantically busy job, her two children,  a new man with 3 children (and a dog) and very little free time. I sit on the sidelines mostly, simply doing what I can to make sure that relationships between them are good. But as we all know, a Mother's place is in the wrong, so I tread carefully.
  Next this week is big Grandson's  third ear operation in a year. He has had a rotten time with painful ear infections and this time last year he had his first set of gromits put in. They were not entirely successful so he had a second operation in the Summer, and now he needs a third op, which is scheduled for tomorrow (Tuesday) and which may also involve having his adenoids removed. The last time we went for a check-up, the Consultant took a long look inside the offending ears  and said   "Your tubes are rubbish William!" Poor chap, he never complains though it must be pretty miserable for him. We shall see what happens tomorrow, and I rather hope that the surgeon decides to remove
his adenoids anyway, though it does mean he would have to have to have a week off school to avoid any germs or infections. I guess that means a week with me,  but I don't mind at all. We can get cosy with some nice food and a film or two.

Blue Moon..

Last night was one of those rare nights when I tossed and turned and just couldn't go back to sleep. I don't really mind them too much, because I don't  have to leap out of bed early for work any more,  so I can catch up easily. But last night I was aware of the significance of the full moon - apparently a super blue blood moon, which appears once in 150 years, and there was going to be an eclipse too.
Well, it looked just like the normal moon to me, and I popped out of bed three or four times to check on it. It was very bright though, and I gazed at the stars for a bit, wishing I was in an area with less light pollution so that I could see more of them.
  Back to bed and I ended up trying  to sing myself  to sleep. I go through a regular repertoire, beginning with lullabies I used to sing to the children and often  going on to the complete Ella Fitzgerald song books: Cole Porter, Rodgers and Hart etc.. I know all of these off by heart because I had the old vinyl albums when I were a girl, and can repeat every phrase and note still, after all these years. I guess it must  have worked anyway, because I woke again at 8.30, feeling fairly chipper. I can't remember how far I got through the albums, but I know that at one point I was singing:
   "I could cry salty tears, where have I been all these years.." For those of  you who may not know these lovely lyrics, that's from "How long has this been going on?"
  And there's another Blue Moon connection, which funnily enough I was talking to my Sister about
just the other day. She remembered that I used to sing that very song, dressed in  a long, midnight blue evening dress with (wait for it) a boned bodice and wonderfully full net skirt! That was when I  sang occasionally with a local group called the Terry Graham Trio, consisting of Terry Lovelock on drums, Graham Bond on any instrument you could care to name, and Bob Somebody on the piano. (Apologies for not remembering Bob's surname, but it was roughly a hundred years ago!)
  I was about 17 at the time and we used to play for 6th form dances and wedding receptions. And "Blue Moon" was one of our regular songs. Graham went  on to be very famous, he was so talented it was quite breathtaking - he played the piano, keyboards, vibes and all the saxophones, and the trio specialised in modern jazz, so  Ella Fitzgerald songs were a natural choice. I used to get terribly nervous, so I wasn't a great success. but we had such fun. Sadly, Graham committed suicide a long time ago now, though not before he formed the Graham Bond Organisation with Ginger Baker (that old reprobate). Drugs were Graham's downfall and though I saw him a few times during those years,
he really wasn't the old Graham any more. Terry and I have remained friends all these years, and both ended up working in Advertising, which I suppose you could say was another kind of drug - though
not quite as life-threatening.
  Heavens, how time slips away - I've got to get going. Son and family are coming for the weekend before they fly back to Barcelona, so I have a list as long as your arm. I have to get the right cereal, milk (not cow's), bread, fruit and veg. And do a bit of cooking in advance - I might have another try at baking Madeleines, which were quite successful last time. And it's big Grandson's Options Evening at school this evening. I have said I will go and help him and Daughter, so that's my day sorted.

Hello Again ...

It is so long since I last had a chat with you all - if you are still out there - that I  hardly know where to begin! Two years is a long time in any life, and with children and grandchildren racing on with their lives, it's rather like a fast-forwarded film.
  For a start, I'm two years older, and that sometimes seems a lot. I've now got a dodgy knee to go with the dodgy eyes and ears, all of which cause my children to be (understandably) short tempered and to often say, in exasperation "Oh for goodness sake Mum" when I can't keep up with either the conversation or the walking speed. Though on the whole they are rather better tempered about it all than I am. I get regularly furious with my diminishing abilities and often swear loudly, even if I'm the only one in earshot.
  Still I have lots to be grateful for. because my brain seems to be keeping up and though I have shaky hands as well, they don't alarm me as much as they alarm friends and family who often ask if I drop things. (I don't.)  I did ask my doctor if they were anything to worry about, and after asking me lots of pertinent questions. she suggested that a glass of wine might help. I assured her that we were on the same wavelength as I regularly enjoy a glass of wine with dinner, and that was that.
   No doubt you're thinking that you would rather hear about my family than all this, so here goes:
Son and his lovely Polish partner are now the proud owners of a delightful 3 year old son, little Jasper, who is as bright a button as you could ever imagine. They have been living in Barcelona for just over a year, and really enjoying life there. And as it's more or less continual blue skies and sunshine, I'm not really surprised. I have been a regular visitor to their lovely rented apartment which is only 5 minutes walk to the beach. My last visit, over New Year, was so nice and even warm enough to sit in the sun. It was such a wonderful antidote to our grey and gloomy winter.
   Little Jasper goes to Nursery School there, and besides being fluent in both English and Polish, he is also learning Spanish and Catalan!  It's pretty amazing to have four languages before his fourth birthday I know. And he is totally into Spiderman (has the whole costume and mask) and the Spurs (Harry Kane and Dele Alli are his favourites - of course we are a Spurs family, so that's not surprising). So all in all, he is a total delight, though I may be a bit biased.
  Daughter's family has been much more complicated over the last two years - at times it has been rather like a full-on earthquake! I'll gloss over the worst bits, but my lovely older Grandson Will, is now 13 (and much taller than me of course) and has acquired a new adoptive Father, who is Daughter's now ex-partner (don't ask) and the natural father of my little grand-daughter, Gracie, now 3 and a complete delight too. But I fear that they have all had a very wobbly couple of years. Daughter moved out of the house, and the relationship, early last year, and has now moved into a new house and a new relationship! I must say that she is completely fearless where relationships are concerned - which she certainly doesn't get from me - and I'm sure that things will work themselves out. But, as my friends and I say, you couldn't make it up!
  I think that's probably enough for now, and about as much as you might want to absorb and reflect on. It has certainly given me several pauses for thought and a few sleepless nights too. I'll catch up again soon and bring you up to date with my future plans.
  I have missed you all, and writing this blog, and I promise not to disappear again for two years!