Good morning November. Time, I think to accept that Autumn is fully established and in fact 2/3 done. Winter beckons with an icy finger and cold gaze.
I went full flamingo yesterday when I bought a bright bra that exactly matched a bright but old thermal layer.
Long after I retired myself, my trusty on-call bras just kept on going.
Named and chosen because they could be worn continuously for up to 36 hours and not be in any way uncomfortable. Originally I had a stable of 5, which has dwindled down to 1. Bras with that level of stoicism are only really required for travel these days. And travel is on our November itinerary hence the purchase of the Flamingo bra. Serendipity offered me a Pigeon coloured blue/grey/deep lilac bra in the right size.
The trusty old bra went off across the underwear rainbow bridge yesterday . So on days when stoic underwear is required I will be either a Flamingo or a Pigeon.
I already know that in the winter months the Flamingo bra will get more use. I suspect I am more inherently Flamingo than Pigeon, but in the darker months something vivid regardlese of where it is worn is a real boost for the soul.
311 is a significant number for me. It was the bus route from my rural village to the Market Town where I went to school, and then on to Chelmsford the county town of Essex.
My bus was not jazzy and yellow at the front. I travelled on busses decorated in the Eastern National livery of Tilling Green. The exact colours of the single decker parked beside the jazzy 311. I was 10 when it was considered safe for me to travel alone on these busses and probably 20 when I last caught one.
This bus route is so well known to me that even now I imagine the regular movement and stops would feel comfortably familiar. Although there may have been slight route changes over the years the map above shows the route I am very familiar with . The route that eventually took me away, forever, from the comfort of familiar North East Essex countryside. This is a really strange ponder but whenever I see the number 311, I feel something warm and comforting. North East Essex gave me a great start in life and route 311 gently introduced me to the rest of the world. Quite the journey.
Good Morning, Good Friday and we are embarking on another strange Easter. Yesterday my list of jobs included finishing the Christmas present wrapping. Not a usual deadline for early April but these are not usual times.
I don’t fully understand the movement of Easter dates but it must be around this early part of April quite often as my Facebook Memories page for today has lots of photographs of us specifically doing family stuff on the 2nd April. The dogs also appear to always be well groomed around now. Ready to charm relations into cuddles and tasty nibbles.
Miss Lola posing for best dog of the week.
In contrast, like many people this Easter, Hugo is looking rugged.
Motorways also seem to play a big part in memories of past April 2nds. The M25 and the M3 have their own mentions on Facebook . The M3 is recorded as being more like a car park than a motorway. 11 years ago we were heading to Southampton to visit a family member in Southampton and then travelling on to Cornwall We were stuck somewhere on the M25 and could see our friend Suzannah in a car next too us. She was also travelling between London and Devon. We managed a twenty minute catch up before the traffic moved!
Food is also a big part of any Easter and 10 years ago despite an over-full fridge and many Easter eggs we felt the need to visit Pattiserie Valerie and stock up on fancy calories.
In a previous iteration of record keeping there is also a lot of mentions of visiting comedy clubs or venues in early April. We trailed all over London for comedy but our ‘home’ pitch for laughter was the East Dulwich Comedy Club.Based either at the East Dulwich Tavern or The Hob in Forest Hill. We are never hecklers but we do often fall for being the victims of witty banter.
One Easter 6 years ago myself, Hannah and Hannahs mum had the mammoth task of sorting a mountain of Lego and Silvanian Families. It was a production line of cleaning and packing away for future family members.
In the middle of the task we were stopped by a phone call from Japan. Sam, my son, and his friend Martin had managed, in a drunken state, to upset members of the Japanese mafia, the Yakuza and were being chased around a city by them. Silvanian families and Lego were put aside as we nattered to a loquacious Sam who was hiding in a doorway.
Family, friends, travel, food, laughter and memories. The stories of Easters of the past .
This last few weeks has seen bloggers around the world start to comment on the anniversaries of Lockdowns starting. I use the Bloglovin App and WordPress Reader to follow other blogs.
Being a daily blogger I have another 19 days before I need to confront an anniversary, but no matter what the style or genre of the blogs, that I choose to follow there are some common threads. Puzzlement and incredulity that a year has passed and the changes that they have experienced from the mundane to Life Altering.
Not needing to write my anniversary blog just yet but being aware set me thinking yeserday. We deliberately imposed restrictions on our contacts and travel well before the government imposed restrictions on us. For over a year now we have barely travelled 10 miles in any direction from the Tamar River and that includes periods when we could have gone further. Excluding a couple of essential trips to London , with some stops on the way, we have lived the travel life of the average person in pre World War 1 times. Within that small radius there are only about 5 locations that we regularly visit by car. Everything else is a walk starting at home. I’m certain my life has never been this geographically restricted ever before. Obviously like everyone I am also, culturally, socially and familialy restricted which are far more significant. But I am a Thursdays Child.
Loaded into a motor cycle and side car soon after birth and driven 15 miles from maternity unit to home. 10 miles is just not enough!
July 4 the and the first time @theoldmortuary were able to travel and stay overnight somewhere. The early morning cup of tea gave it away. Getting our hands on a fluffy Sally or being trusted with the business end of nursing are not normal @theoldmortuary behaviours, so clearly we were not at home for our breakfast.
There were many giddy moments as we ticked off counties and the differing landscapes that we drove through. Oh, the exotica of the Somerset Levels and the Cotswold Hills. Wimbledon welcomed us, no wombles today, they are still shielding, but lovely family members and some great walks.
A tiny blog, but useful. Never will you be puzzled by the term ‘ fluffy Sally’ ever again.
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