Had an old friend for lunch

I saw my friend Ken yesterday and treated him to a beef salad, strawberry cheesecake and tea in the lush surroundings of my caravan.
It was smashing.
I've known Ken for a very long time and an honour it is too. He's the type of guy who quotes. Mostly utility costs. Very practical man is Ken. But so funny too. Yep, a really nice man all round. Another thing I admire him for his is resolve. If he sets out to do something he does it. He's been unwell recently but in spite of that he still rocks. His red and black motorbike on display by my flowering courgettes. Cool.
The next time he visits, either here at the bungalow or down by the riverside at Two Ducks Mr Hairy Suit and myself will push the boat out with a more lush lunch. Properly costed of course!

I'm off to market in a mo, won't haggle, but will buy some liver.

It's all about birds.

The Swan Family regular visitors to our caravan 'Two Ducks on Wallasea island. The parents hiss if you do anything untoward, like move an arm or blink, but so far I've managed to hand feed them without losing a finger. Very pleasant but I wouldn't trust them...

A wary but welcome visitor catching some rays on the sturdy steps erected by clever clogs Mr Hairy Suit. He made the verandah aswell, a real feat of engineering by the geeky civil servant.

Mum and dad swan their cygnets and around 18 ducks all lunching on seeds, bread and fresh water. I adore playing lady bountiful to my feathered mates, I know they cruise the caravans on the lookout for stale Hovis but for an hour or so every day I play at being St Francis in a frock.

Hey you're supposed to DRINK the water, not sit in it. I put out a pretty bowl of fresh water so they could enjoy a slurp after munching on their vast array of seeds and bread, one of the cygnets though took to like a um a um duck to um water...I'm gonna need a bigger bowl.

A baby Thrush flew into the bedroom, Mr Hairy Suit did his Birdman of Wallasea act.

'Two Ducks' our lovely little retro caravan down by the riverside.

The small buffet carefully and lovingly prepared then laid out by myself and Mr Hairy Suit for our guests Mr Horsehound and his lady friend, Miss Redhead. They made it home with no ill effects... Better luck next time...


Remember to click on the pics for a more astounding view.

Heather Watson

This lovely creature had 33 year old Serena Williams in a panic. During the final set British tennis player Heather Watson came within one point of beating, who is possibly the greatest woman player of all time, Serena Williams. The gutsy performance was spellbindiing. Even Serena applauded.
Even though she didn't make it today, Heather must be one to watch in the future.
Well done.

Wimbledon is proving good viewing.

Andy Murray plays tomorrow, I'm hoping his match starts late afternoon on account of me having a day out to Maldon.
Lots of charity shops and a classic car show. (going to Maldon in Rosie the MG)
Should be a super day.
Hoping for a couple of good buys and a Murray win.

Rafa v. Dustin

Despite Rafa pulling out all the stops he lost to the dreadlocked German, Dustin Brown.
It was one of the best matches I've seen and I've seen a whole lot. The German, ranked around 100 in the world had a serve like no other. Being 6ft 5ins helps. Poor Rafa was truly trounced. And afterwards, as he signed autographs, I felt for the Spaniard, he's a gentlemen on and off court and brings a zing to men's tennis but today he lost to dynamic charismatic 30 year old Dustin.

Oh Boy! A post in Wimbledon colours

Pity the players at Wimbledon today. Weather forecast says temps could reach 95 degrees f. Way too warm for my taste. But Wimbles is a summer sport and with that comes perspiration and near collapse.
Can't wait.

Not a titter from Mr Horsehound. He will be cursing this heat though. Never a man for lounging under the sun he prefers to stay inside. Very wise man. In some respects.

On account of the increase in temperature I've had to start taking my arthritis pills again. My knees bulge and my my fingers too. But as long as my mind is healthy I can tolerate physical blips.

Started re-reading Elizabeth Goudge. A dear author of mine. Stella, the protagonist in Gentian Hill is a strong loving girl awash with human weaknesses resonates with me a little. She's courageous but not daft.

Made twelve Fig Fingers yesterday. Such a simple recipe. I did tweak it though. The original recipe uses dates. But as I adore shop bought fig rolls I thought hey let's play dangerous and use figs instead.

Now I kit myself out in long floaty frock and sun hat and drive down to Two Ducks where I will sip water watching tennis on tv.
Our caravan is looking more habitable now, lots of growing veg and fruit, herbs too. Flowers in abundance. A rainbow coloured ceramic bowl filled with water for all types of birds. Magpies, ducks, pigeons and a family of swans.
I'll sort out some pics.

Have a nice safe day everyone and don't be a daft grill-yourself-under-the-sun-Brit.....
STAY IN THE SHADE!
 
 

The Grief Tap. Full On

Wimbledon.
Not the same without my lovely mummy.
I've been looking forward to it too. When I've been up to my eyes in caravanalia and missing husbands I hung onto the prospect of Wimbledon fortnight for dear life.
Dear Life
Dearest Life.
How fragile you are.
One minute you're alive on a hot beach the next your distant family in England cry.

My husband the ever reliable Mr Horsehound has gone. To pastures far away. And I don't and can't blame him. Infact I welcome it. God knows he deserves happiness.
I just wish he'd told me first.
If he'd bought a motorbike or grown a beard or even found the Lord I'd have kept him in my bed and heart but he fell into that old hole called love and vanished. 
I see him occasionally. I worry all the time. But it is his choice and I must respect it.

It's nearly a year since mum fell asleep forever and that awful bullish undertaker took her away leaving me behind. My God I've lost count of the times I've wished I could see her sultry blue eyes and hear her caustic observations on life. Laugh? I nearly died. Nearly? On reflection maybe I did. The afternoon she ceased to be a sentient being I kind of stopped being a being too.
The being I was, the one that kept the bungalow afloat and made love and cakes accompanied her on that sad little day to her final residence. 
My body still exhausts itself likewise my mind but I have a heaviness about me, one that wasn't there before.
'Oh bugger' I sometimes say.

I keep crying.
Last week in Morrisons I crumbled by the pet food, Mr Hairy Suit held me up.
Then in a charity shop when I had to get out and get in the car before I scratched someones eyes out. I didn't feel very Christian in the Church Shop.
Hairy Suit again steering me home.

I've been spending a lot of time with Hairy Suit's family. Mum, Dad and young Mark. And Mrs Hairy Suit too. We get on very well.
And they are fine.
Good people doing crafts and loving each other.
I like them.

But if a dream had foretold that my parents would die and my husband leave me without a word or a penny to bless myself with I'd have dashed out of bed, had a strong cup of tea and thanked God it was only a dream.


I didn't get the job I applied for.
My back hurts.
I ache for mum and dad
but
I'm loved
A family of swans hang out at our caravan
I've started writing again
and Andy Murray plays tomorrow...