Scorcio (again) and Brève (peut-être).
Short and sweet (?) this time – we’ve been away for a few days to attend the funeral of an old friend in Hampshire and our schedule has been frenetic ever since. And the next couple of weeks are looking similarly busy and action-packed!
The funeral was for our old, old friend Norman who toiled at the chalkface as did I in the 70s and 80s. He taught History and dabbled with Careers work at Drayton School in Banbury while I trod a similar path at Chipping Norton School. We first met on a Careers and Guidance residential weekend for relative novices of the game and, as we were in the same History consortium, we met frequently at those meetings too. His wife Mary and Penny became fast friends – they had one of the puppies from one of our Polly’s litters and Mary is one of the sweetest and kindest women one could ever hope to meet.
As these things go, it was fine – the weather was lovely, the service was good and their elder son’s eulogy had a perfect mix of poignancy and humour. Everyone was reminded of the good memories they had of Norman and were smiling at the end.
Yesterday we had a visit with Penny’s nephew Michael and his family who are over for a few weeks from Australia. Those of you who have been paying attention may remember that Michael came to live with us in Byfield for a time when he was struggling to find his way in Australia. He ended up securing a motor mechanic apprenticeship at Ford in Banbury where he did very well and he and his girlfriend (now wife) produced two lads and lived in our rental property in Banbury for a while before setting off back to Australia. He’s done very well for himself and it was a delight to see them all.
On a completely different note, one of our guests for dessert for the Wandering Supper last Saturday was Felix Francis, the younger son of Dick Francis and a successful novelist in his own right who very kindly presented Penny with an autographed copy of his newest book. I knew he lived in the village (just on the outskirts, as it happens) and I knew that he was a well-respected author but I had not met him or his wife before. He was a likeable and interesting man who has a talent which I have long admired in others but for which I have no capacity whatsoever – the ability to remember short witticisms and bring them out at an appropriate time. During dessert he enquired about the painting of my great-grandfather which hangs in our dining room.
I asked him if he could see any similarities between the painting and me. He came back with the obvious – you’re both bald – and then he made a comment which I will have to try and remember for future opportunities.
A man who is bald is a great thinker.
A man with a beard is very sexy.
A bald man with a beard is someone who thinks he is sexy.
Clearly, you can see how that applies to me.
This coming Tuesday is the 10th anniversary of the vote to leave the European Union, a day of mourning in our household for sure. The front page of the Independent last Sunday had the following:
Their promises of more jobs, more trade, more power for Britain have proved a con, Michael Heseltine writes as the Brexit vote 10th anniversary approaches. Never have so few done so much damage to so many with so little ability to execute what they lied about. Their scandalously false prospectus has turned to dust and ashes. Naturally, they blame everyone but themselves. They are the guilty men and should……hang their heads in shame.
The piece was illustrated with a rogue’s gallery of Boris Johnson, Michael Gove and Nigel Farage. Thankfully, having driven the country to ruin, Boris and Gove are no longer in politics. Not only did they fuck up the country they then fucked off to spend more time with their money. Farage, who once promised to leave the country if Brexit was a failure, is the only one of the three still actively engaged in politics. Sadly, he hasn’t left the country and continues peddling his racist politics to anyone who will listen. Surprisingly, there are a considerable number of folks who believe his lie that immigrants are the cause of all our problems. Only the “wrong” kind of immigrants, of course.
The Guardian had an article yesterday which identified five symbols which sum up the impact Brexit has had on certain aspects of the economy, from fishermen to bankers.
And, as it happens, we are gearing ourselves up for an invasion of foreigners! Our favourite diplomat arrives for a few days on Tuesday and then next Sunday we welcome the arrival of my lovely sister Sallie and her husband for a few days. Hopefully the weather will stay fine, hopefully I will remember to take a few photos and hopefully we (and they) will have a good time!
And finally, later today the Midnight Baseball game will be played in Fairbanks, Alaska. It’s a game played annually on the longest day in the year when, in Fairbanks, the sun never sets. I remember our good friend Pete attended it when he was doing his baseball tour of the United States. I imagine it would be quite a spectacle. Apparently, you can see it streamed live on YouTube. You’re welcome.
Meanwhile, keep breathing, keep happy, keep smiling, keep exercising, be good, be careful, and keep safe. And, be gentle to wasps and bees – we need all the pollinators we can get. And, hold your loved ones close.
Lots of love to you all,
Greg