"Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble."

Listening to the Beatles as I read my favourite blogs. I just love blogging - it's so sociable and I enjoy looking to see what comments I have received from the previous day. Someone has commented that they like my 'Mrs Dale's Diary' style - and I have to admit that I'm just about old enough to remember Mrs. Dale's Diary. That old chestnut, "I'm worried about Jim." is all I can remember, though. Now, of course, I'm an Archers fan - at least I listen to the Archers on a regular basis, and have followed them for years. My Dad was a fan too, and used to listen to the omnibus edition on a Sunday morning in the bath. We would hear the tap being turned on and off as he topped up the hot water, and he smoked either a cigar or his pipe as he listened. He usually had a glass of either brandy or whisky balancing on the edge of the bath too. He never emerged from the bathroom until the final music was heard. He'd be wrapped in a towel, Turkish style, with a soggy cigar clamped between his teeth. Then he was ready to start cooking Sunday Lunch, and if my Dad was cooking, it deserved the capital letters. One of his most memorable dishes was a combination of fillet steak and pheasant - truly glorious - served with mashed potatoes and a wonderful winey gravy, plus a good claret of course. I like to think that somewhere up there he's still enjoying the odd glass.

This morning on the Terry Wogan Show we had a virtual Firework display - just my cup of tea. And this evening, as I sit here, there are fireworks going off all around.
Luckily I don't have to step outside to see them. The bangs are muffled and I can see the sparkling showers of colour from where I'm sitting. It's just perfect.

Today we had the planned viewing at Son's flat, plus another one which came courtesy of the Agents later this afternoon. The friends of friends of Son were extremely nice, and I think they loved the flat. The fact that the buses have disappeared from outside is a real bonus, and it was a perfect sunny day too. Of course the flat was looking lovely (it is lovely) with fresh flowers and shining windows. The whole thing was marred only by the fact that Daughter and the Boyfriend were quite obviously mid-row when I arrived, and it just got worse. We ducked across the road to sit and have coffee in the sun at Frankinsteine, but it didn't help. In the end I went to do the viewing on my own, hoping that they would sort it out between them. On occasions like this, I say nothing. I have discovered that whatever you say you can't win. "A Mother's place..."

It's a Good Job.

My young French Student left this morning, with a cheerful smile. She was going out to buy pillows, duvet, sheets and towels in town, for her new flatshare. She had seen some in a shop she couldn't pronounce, which I finally decoded as Woolworths. She just couldn't get her tongue around it, and we went through all the shops in town before we located it. I remembered that my first part-time job was as a 'Saturday Girl' in Romford Woolworths. The first day I worked there, I wore a pair of flat black ballet pumps that I had bought new for the occasion. That was my first mistake. It was a long hard day, on my feet all day, but thankfully my Dad came to collect me in the Morris Eight. My feet were so swollen that he and my Mum had to cut the shoes off when we got home, and then I sat with my poor feet in a bowl of warm water for a couple of hours while the swelling went down. And for that day's work I was paid the princely sum of nine shillings and six pence in old money. (That's just under fifty pence to you.) I don't remember much else about that job, but it taught me one very important lesson. Never, ever, wear new shoes on the first day of a new job.

Speaking of jobs, my Student and the Arrogant Frog apparently got on like a house on fire, and she is going to be working there full-time from next week. This time she will be fed on the days she works, and is being paid what she thinks is a reasonable wage, plus her tips. The only snag I could see is that all the staff, as well as the owner, are French! And she is here to learn English! Spot the deliberate mistake.

I went to the Birthday Party with Daughter and Grandson, just as a backstop really and in case she had to lift him up at any point. It was the usual bear-garden bun fight that I had almost forgotten about. None of the children were really old enough to play the games that Jamie's Dad had organised, but that didn't stop him. 'Pin the Horn on the Dinosaur' was very popular, though the children mostly just lifted up the blindfold when it was their turn, which rather missed the point of the exercise.
I had a glass of wine, some dolly mixtures, a jam sandwich and a piece of very sweet Birthday cake with green icing. No wonder I didn't really want my supper this evening..

Who wants to be a Millionaire?

Well, what d'you know, I've won another £10 on the Lottery today - that's £30 in about two weeks! The Boyfriend said, when Daughter told him, "Don't mess about with £10s, make it the Jackpot next time." I wish. But I did see that 2 people shared the Rollover Jackpot last night, winning 8.8 million each. Mindboggling isn't it?

Another bit of good news this morning is that the temporary bus stop outside Son's flat, which has been blighting our lives for the last 9 months, is moving from tomorrow. Hurray. Three Cheers. No more dicing with death when I pull up outside to drop them off or pick them up. No more people staring through our windows. And our buyer will be pleased too.

As it's another glorious day, I'm off down to the Paddling Pool park to meet Daughter and Co. It's just too lovely to stay indoors,and who knows when this patch of heavenly blue weather will disappear. Later this afternoon, I'm going with Daughter and Grandson to a Birthday Party for one of his little friends. He has had a very social week, what with Hallowe'en, the Slumber Party at Nursery and the Fireworks last night. I'm reliably informed that he will be wearing his Pumpkin costume today (round orange body, green stick legs, little gold head). I can't wait..

Leave your worries on the doorstep.

Thank heaven, today has been much better. I had a phone call from Son this morning, and he has a friend of a friend who wants to look at his flat on Monday - who knows it could be good news. I also won £10 on Euromillions (£9.80 actually), which made me feel better, if not much richer. Then I had another conversation with our long-term buyer with the broken chain, which was at least positive. After all this I took myself out for a long walk in the sun. It has been the most glorious and warm day again. I walked down to the Meeting Place (everyone who lives here knows this beachside cafe - open every day including Christmas Day, when they give away mince pies to anyone who turns up) to meet up with Daughter, Grandson and the Boyfriend.
As I walked towards the Cafe, Grandson spotted me and raced towards me with arms outstretched shouting "Nana" at the very top of his voice. I was quite overcome, which I put down to my over-emotional state lately, and lifted him up for a huge and rather tearful cuddle.

We sat and had very companionable cups of coffee. Daughter is still not feeling at all well. The antibiotics are probably not helping, though they will be zapping the infection. At least we spent a lovely couple of hours in the sun, with Grandson zipping along on his scooter. And they have now gone off to a Fireworks display with friends this evening. I'm not keen on Fireworks, so I'm staying home with a glass of wine and my French Lady for company. When we lived in Cambridge, we would walk to Midsummer Common for the Fireworks and Bonfire, meeting up with friends and their families on the way. It was a very jolly annual event, which I expect is still continuing. There was always a fair and sideshows too, and the organisers sent people round with buckets to collect contributions. It was a great family evening, and my children loved it. We went every year, rain or shine, for fifteen years. Those were the days.

Quite coincidentally, my young French Student has gone to Cambridge today on a trip organised by her Language School. It was a day of blue skies and sunshine, so she will have seen Cambridge at its very best. I used to cycle past King's College and the Chapel every weekend, on my way to the Market, and every time the sheer beauty of the place took my breath away. Even after fifteen years it was still as wonderful as the first time I saw it. Then, I was holding hands with Jack, practically skipping with pure joy, and completely under the spell of the place and of him. That wonder never really went away - unlike Jack..

I have been singing this song in my head all day "The Sunny Side of the Street", and it has reminded me of my Mother. She loved popular music, and was mad about Ivor Novello and Mario Lanza. She had a lovely singing voice when she was young,and sang in her church choir. We all sang all the time at home, and even made up our own operas - or rather we would dramatize whatever we were doing and put it to music. Strange. Gold dust at my feet...

Cheer up!

It hasn't been a good day. I have spent most of it feeling tired and pretty sick about our general lack of progress in the Flat department. I spent a lot of yesterday trying to sort it out, but not getting very far really. Unaccountably, I feel guilty because I can't actually do anything about it - helpless and hopeless is where I'm at. I'm sure it has been worse today because I'm tired, but I'm teetering on the edge of misery a lot of the time. Son is being very stoical about it,and says that he'll cope whatever happens. I expect he will - he has the resilience of the young, but I do want to be able to make it right for both of them, Son and Daughter.

My young French Student has had an up and down week too, She found a job last week, in a French restaurant locally, but soon discovered that the owner was not quite what he seemed to be. He didn't pay her by the hour, but by the shift, and was rather cavalier about actually handing over any money. She had her tips - which were pretty good - but that was not the point. Anyway, she sussed him out and said she couldn't continue working for him while she was doing her language course. Next she went on to (eventually) find a flatshare, and now, this evening, she has gone off to another job - this time in the Arrogant Frog (a local French restaurant which is definitely named after its owner). She is due to leave me on Sunday and I do wish her well.

This evening my regular French Lady arrived for her three-day teaching stint. I made a risotto for dinner, with mushrooms, bacon and red wine for a change - actually it tasted very good. We had it with salad, and then some fresh pineapple with sour cream and pine nuts for dessert. Sadly, I could hardly bear to make conversation, which is not like me at all. If only I could feel a bit more cheerful. To compensate, I have eaten nearly all the chocolates Daughter bought me as a 'thank-you' for having Grandson. I'll be sorry in the morning...

Children in Need.

I forgot to mention yesterday that the Nursery 'Slumber Party' was in support of Children in Need this year. Luckily I was reminded when I dropped Grandson off this morning, added my name to the list and gave a donation. It's such a good idea, and the little darlings did look lovely. Even the Nursery Ladies were joining in: one of them had, very bravely, travelled to work on the train from Shoreham in her bright red pyjamas. And she is a large lady! I hope she was carrying a collecting tin, because she deserved everyone's support. It's a very good cause, and one dear to Terry Wogan's heart, so it gets my vote. The only other charity I regularly give to is the NSPCC, because I cannot bear children being badly treated or abused in any way. Just the thought of it makes me feel physically sick, especially when you consider that most of the ill treatment or abuse is perpetrated by parents or close family members. I have embarrassed my children many times by 'interfering' when I see a child being abused, hit or shouted at by its parents - what a world we live in!

I'm listening to a short play on Radio 4 as I type, with the lovely Bill Nighy. His voice is one of those treacly jobs that I can't resist. I also heard a bit of Under Milk Wood this morning, read by Richard Burton, on Desert Island Discs. This is one of the things on my Christmas list, along with a digital radio (I'm fed up with trying to tune in my old radio), the original "West Side Story" film score on cd, and a docking system for my Ipod. Not that I really want to think about Christmas just yet.

I'm yawning because of Grandson waking, as usual, at 5.45am. He bounced around a bit in the bed, ate a ginger biscuit, and then informed me that he wasn't tired any more and wanted to go downstairs. That's how come we were watching Pinocchio at 7am...

Absent without Leave.

Sorry, I've been absent without leave since Monday, and it was all my own fault. In a moment of inattention on Monday evening, I knocked my glass of wine over and most of it splashed around and into my keyboard. I mopped it up, cursing my stupidity and the loss of a perfectly good glass of wine, but sadly the wine got into the workings and the result was that I couldn't type some letters or numbers. I lost 'o', 'p' and most of the numbers, plus a few other random letters. You'd be amazed how many words require the letters o or p - just try it. And, of course, I couldn't log on to my Blog. I hope that is a satisfactory explanation. I did feel very guilty in case I had any faithful readers out there wondering what had happened to me. Mea culpa.

This afternoon my lovely Computer man (called Dan), came with a new keyboard for me to use while he tries to fix the old one. I do hope he can, because the beloved old one is black and silver and goes with my whole system. I musn't complain though because he is always so helpful and thoughtful. And he has had a shite year too - we were comparing notes and saying how much we look forward to better times.

An update on Daughter's situation: she is still not feeling very good, and is bleeding quite a lot. She also became aware of some changes yesterday, and had to go to her doctor for the antibiotics which had been prescribed by the Consultant in case of this very thing happening. She looks very tired and somehow older - bless her, she's only 25, but of couse it's experiences like this that make us grow up rather suddenly. We begin to be aware that we might not be immortal or invulnerable. It's rather sad for parents who are observing this, because we never stop wanting to protect our children, however old they are. Anyway, the Boyfriend has come up trumps. He has taken time off work and has been staying with her all week so that he can look after her. It has meant that she could relax and not have to lift and carry Grandson all the time. The little rascal is with me tonight, and is snoring away in my bed. Tomorrow morning I have to take him to Nursery where they are having a Slumber Party! I have bought him some new pyjamas from Primark, with little monkeys on them (most appropriate), and he has a new dressing gown and slippers to wear too. I should take a photo of him because he will look just adorable in that outfit, rather like one of the little old seven dwarfs..