It is just as well I rarely check my stats or worry re comments, because yesterday, 164 people popped in and yet there were zero comments. I know this because I had to see if anyone was out there, or if there was something wrong, so I checked. You are still out there, and that is just fine with me. I am the world's worst commenter at the moment, so I can't complain! I am all too aware of how busy we all are, and that at times, commenting is just not possible. Or that we have nothing to say.
Or, in a more worrying thought, maybe we are bored. You are bored. Hmmm. 4 more days of memories and I will be done, people. Bear with me.
So this morning, Jean, Mother and I ventured out to the supermarket to do some shopping for food. The fridge was bare. And we completely forgot that a) it is the end of the school holidays b) the end of the month c)Friday. We were lunatics to think it would be an effortless and serene experience.
By the time we left the 2nd supermarket, I was doing my dragon impersonation. Flames bursting from the mouth, steam hissing out of the ears, and all I can say is that I was not a happy bunny at all. I do not do hordes of people. In my defence, I have to say that I get really edgy about random trolleys bashing into me. And there were more than hordes of trolleys. And people. And small people who ran about all over the place bashing.....
Enough. I am precipitating a flashback and that would not be pretty.
This afternoon has been spent sewing. Soothing stuff. And this evening, we all went up to the local country park at dusk to see the Flow. The pathway of all the ancient rivers beneath the reservoir were lit and when the sun set, the lake was filled with lights, showing us where once the rivers flowed, before the reservoir was built and the land flooded. It was the most beautiful sight. And perishingly cold. I am still in my coat 2 and a half hours later. But it was good.
I started telling the others about how, a couple of years after we came to live here, Geoff and I took Diana and David up to the country park one Sunday and we walked around it - it takes about an hour. And how that was the first time I felt as if it was home. It was January, and we had just got back from Cape Town. We were all bundled up because it was freezing, and David was having the time of his life, in welly boots stomping through the mud, with rosy cheeks and wooly hat, and Diana was chasing after him, laughing. They looked English. At home. As if they belonged. David was about 3, and yet he remembered - he said - Dad was there too. Yes, he was.
Then Mum started talking about her memories of walking around the reservoir too - with Dad, before he developed Lewey Body Disease, and we lost him. And then Jean started remembering how she would walk round it with her boys as they were growing up, David told us all about the night hikes he did round it too, with Crusaders - his youth club when he was young. And the fun they had. And the memories flowed, just like the ancient river, and it was lovely. Diana has walked round it many times with Kate and the dogs. We have been to see all the bluebells in the shade of the trees there, had picnics. Wandered round slowly with friends, or at speed chasing little ones.
We have watched the birds, sat in the shade of the trees talking, and just revelled in the peace. And when we flew to New Zealand all those years ago, we flew over it, and I knew home was close. One day, I will take Missy there too, and she can play in the play area, and run like the wind too - just like her uncle did when he was the same age.
England may be a small country full of over 60 million people, but there is so much green land too. Countryside. Places to go. Nearby. I need to remember to get out there and enjoy them more.