Gifts

 

I received two gifts today

The first is an absolutely beautiful crocheted blanket which consists of small intricate  waves of blues and greens and purples and yellows.

The second is a hastily painted piece of art in a deep blue, which features what could be swirls of clouds over a forest of blue trees.

I absolutely adore both as both were made with affection, a certain skill and a great deal of personal time.

Perfect gifts.

Thoughtful and meaningful 

The blanket was crafted by my friend Ruth over many months, and it shrieks .....class

The painting was a result of a joint paint-a-long-on-zoom with a lifelong friend Nia who lives in Australia 

A much needed , fun morning in the middle of lockdown.

Loved them.

Gifts with meaning, not just a promise of something nice ,where words mean nothing

My nephew texted me the other month and asked me what I would like for my birthday

I told him I would love an up to date photo of him and his dog which I could frame

Is that all? he asked, his Asperger’s finding some difficulty with my request 

“ It’s because I haven’t seen you for a few years “ I explained and he replied with a short “Arr ok!”

Moments later came another message

“ Are you sure you don’t want a dvd? “ he asked

from Going Gently https://ift.tt/3flV0nl

Round

 Twirling me round

As I lose myself

In summers’embrace

from R's rue https://ift.tt/3vBsBPC

Regulars

We have lived in this house for almost thirty two years. In all that time, I have been a regular at our local pub. Of course, COVID-19  has had a big impact on English public houses. Until very recently our local had been closed  for many months. Three weeks ago it opened for outside drinking only but on May 17th customers were allowed to go back inside. No waiting at the bar. Table service only. Hand sanitising. Masks on when not at your pre-booked table. Such fun!

Regular customer Stan  in our local - one sunny 

afternoon in 2015.He died in 2019.

Last night I moseyed on down there for the first time in a year. I met up with five other regulars - all retired folk like me. I have known them for years and we have  seen that pub pass through several changes - including refurbishments, management comings and goings, deaths of other regulars and the sad decline of pub attendance in this country.

I remember the pub being packed to the rafters on Friday and Saturday nights. It was hard to find a seat sometimes. The air would be a fug of cigarette smoke, filled with lively conversation and raucous laughter. When we first moved to this suburb, there weren't even any televisions in the old place - just a piano which apparently, before my time, used to be the focus of Saturday night sing songs.

Shirley and I have spent several happy New Years Eves in the pub and we have attended a number of wakes there too.  It is where I honed my quizzing skills on Tuesday and Sunday nights. Generally speaking, the atmosphere was always pleasant and unthreatening in this law-abiding neighbourhood but I have seen a couple of fist fights in there - like scenes from The Wild West - though they never lasted long.

Just before the pandemic the old days were long gone. Before closing time most tables would be empty and the careless young bar staff were often in a rush to stop serving and get customers out. It was putting me off going there any more and it felt as if the pub was dying before my eyes. Metaphorically speaking, it was becoming like an old western saloon in a dusty ghost town with the tumbleweed blowing past.

And so I was back in there last night. A slim young woman with long dark hair was taking our orders. I asked what her name was and she said, "Alice".

"Welcome to wonderland!" I said and she chuckled under her black coronavirus mask.

"Are you regulars?" she asked and I admitted that we were though alternatively I might have claimed that we were in truth dinosaurs.

from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/34kfEOs