R's rue

Journeying over to Shepherd's Crook Farm on Saturday morning, we stopped off in a Lincolnshire village called Laceby. As Shirley nipped into the village shop to buy some edible gifts for our friends, I mooched around and snapped three pictures.  The first of them is shown above. It was on the door of the Laceby Chinese Takeaway. Sadly, the business was not open at the time so I could not test out the shockingly loud door. Mind you - at the age of sixty seven - I may have counted as an "elder customer". Perhaps the "vey loud" din would have caused me to collapse in a heap - denying me the opportunity to purchase some sweet and sour pork balls with Shanghai noodles . How kind of the proprietor to leave two kisses after the "Thank you". Above, the little market square in Laceby. I doubt that  a market has been held here since the second world war. Just around the corner it was sad to see that the main village pub - "The Nag's Head" was ...

It’s Sunday morning and my first lie in for ages. I watched YouTube and Tictok videos with Dorothy’s head on my chest until the twentieth ping of my phone galvanised me into action.  I knew who was pinging messages, it was answers to The Velvet Voiced Linda, who runs the community Wardens group. Her weekly check ins during lockdown have been a constant during cloudier times  And it’s fitting that the warden group no longer needs such a sweet natured  manager. I had bagels and eggs for breakfast with lots of coffee, and after watering them, I put some of the house plants out into the sun for a warm I’ve been listening to the delightful Amanda Khozi Mukwashi on Desert Island Discs and one of her childhood memories sparked an old one of mine. Her memory, so eloquently told, was of her grandfather who allayed her childhood  fears when walking in a wood by saying the noises of the trees in the wind was of them joking to each other about how she jumped...

Covenham Reservoir - like a fragment of The Pacific Ocean More news from the jet-setting, high rolling, limelit existence of your friendly host - Lord Pudding of Holderness. Yesterday, the silver South Korean chariot Sir Clint kindly carried Lord and Lady Pudding eastward - along the M180 motorway  before cutting south on the A18 towards Louth - beyond The Lincolnshire Wolds. It was a perfect day. Crystal clear beneath a blue canopy and at Shepherd's Crook Farm near Covenham Reservoir we met old friends Tony and Pauline where they had set up their caravan (American: trailer) for the weekend. In celebration of our arrival Tony prepared a fine brunch of bacon, eggs and mushrooms with the obligatory English breakfast tea. Naturally I boasted about my yacht, my stocks and shares, the racehorses I have just purchased from Saudi Arabia and my intention to replace Clint with a banana-coloured Lamborghini. When Tony and Pauline began yawning with jealousy. I knew it was time to set ...