Monthly Round Up (September 2010)

Apparently August 2010 turned out to be the coldest UK August for 13 years. I don't know about September, but at the time of writing I'm chilly. Most years I try to resist the lure of wearing socks until at least the end of September; and some years that's pretty easy. This year I threw in the towel on the nineteenth day of the month ... there was no way I was standing on a football touchline in sandals, it was just too cold. Global warming is apparently to blame for all this you know ... just doesn't feel very warm, does it? I'm reminded of the time when I was a teenager and our geography teacher was teaching us about the Ice Age. She said there will almost certainly be another one at some point, and such was her conviction that for weeks afterwards, I had nightmares of huge creeping swathes of ice slowly enveloping the planet. Do you think it might be happening now?

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This month has not been an easy one, though not on account of the weather. I'm not going to go into details, but suffice it to say that when someone one loves goes through a frightening and confusing experience in life, it's so very hard to be a spectator, isn't it? We all want to help those we love in whatever way we can, but sometimes things happen which render us helpless (in varying degrees). All we can do is 'be there', and sometimes that's a big ask in itself: I find myself wondering if I am 'being there' in the right way? Should I do it differently? Am I making things worse? My segment of 'life's rich tapestry' has been embellishing a few of the darker colours this month.

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On a much more positive note, I read a rather lovely book during September. I took it away on holiday with me last month, but didn't get around to reading more than a few pages.

The book in question is 'The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society' by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows (the former is the aunt of the latter). I found it a very gentle and subtle read - no laugh out loud moments, but then it wouldn't be appropriate to laugh out loud at the conditions in which the islanders of Guernsey lived under German Occupation during WWII. Not that there is no humour in this book - there is plenty. The book is in the form of letters to and from the main characters - the principle character being Juliet Ashton, an author based in London. Perhaps it is the fact that the narrative is entirely made up of letters (and some entries in a journal) which makes for the subtlety of the story, but I very much liked the way information about that time gradually unfolds. I'm sure one day this tale will be a film, but the film of a book is rarely as good as the original book, is it? I thoroughly recommend it if you like a bit of history within a gentle, undemanding read.

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I had an embarrassing moment this month when, at the start of term, I waited outside school for No.2 to emerge. He has now moved up to another class, so when I saw his former teacher striding out, I assumed he'd be going to speak to a parent of a child in his class now. But no. He walked up to me, gave me a huge hug and planted a kiss on my cheek. Gosh! No.2 was so embarrassed, he didn't know where to look. I was a tad taken aback.

I'd love to be able to say that said teacher just couldn't resist my allure, but that wouldn't be true. In fact he had come out to say a special thank you for the sock monkey I made him as an end of term gift from No.2. He said it was fantastic, and that every gift No.2 had given him (Christmas and end of year) had been particularly thoughtful and pertinent, and wanted to say a personal thanks for that. That was nice of him, wasn't it? No.2 has, of course, been taking the mick out of me quite mercilessly over the past month and delighted in telling anyone who will listen all about it. Tsk.

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On the subject of No.2, he was a bit of a Clever Trevor this month, in winning his team's Man of the Match trophy during an away game. The team are in a league with quite different sides to last year, so it's all a bit of a learning curve at the moment; but No.2 loves his football so much, he'd play against anyone, anywhere. He has started playing Tag Rugby at school now, so it remains to be seen whether he will add rugby to his list of sporting loves.

Twirly bit in the middle to hide the name of his club

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No.1 has also achieved this month, in that one of the bands in which she plays, performed at a local 'Heritage' event. Open air music really is the way to go, although only if the weather is good, which thankfully it was on the day in question. One of the girls (who are all aged 13-15) couldn't be there so their music teacher had to fill in. They all did really well despite looking rather terrified at the start!

There were lots of folk wandering around in period costume for this day-long event, so of course I was there, with my camera ... it would have been rude not to, don't you think?

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This month my dad's closest friend (known to Dad as 'Dr P') passed away. Next month it will be a whole decade since Dad died, and the news of JP's death inevitably brought back some feelings from 2000. Mum pointed out that although 10 years have passed - 10 years during which Dr P was 'with' his family - they were, sadly, not years of quality of life. He had Parkinson's Disease which slowly made him less and less able to 'function' in an enjoyable way. He died suddenly, of a heart attack, and I know that if there really is life after death, Dad would have been there waiting for him. Rest in peace, Dr P.

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This was also the month in which our lovely cat - Georgie - the cat who cannot normally catch anything more animated than a twig, a feather, or the occasional worm ... brought in a large frog. She brought it right through the house to the kitchen, where I was doing a spot of baking. I saw a dark 'blob' out of the corner of my eye, turned round ... and couldn't believe my eyes. It was huge! We don't have a pond, neither do our immediate neighbours, so quite where she got it remains as much a mystery as that she caught it at all.

I first put an empty ice cream container over it in the hope that she'd leave it alone and I could deal with it in peace. But no. She sat guarding the ice cream container. So, I had to shoo her out, shut the door, and then try to get the frog into something. I found an old washing up bowl, put some water in the bottom, and then pulled on the Marigolds I use for washing up (you didn't think I'd touch it with my bare hands did you?!) Somehow, I managed to 'encourage' it into the bowl, then took the bowl out to the back garden (with Georgie locked safely indoors). I returned to the kitchen to clear up the amphibian poo which now decorated the floor in there, and when I went back outside, the frog had gone.

A friend suggested I should have kissed it. Perhaps it was my handsome prince? Damn ... why didn't I think of that?

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I'll leave you with a shot I took this month. These are the last of the summer daisies (a type of chrysanthemum annual rather than 'lawn daisies'). I added a texture to emphasise the 'feel' of autumn.

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