This week has felt nearly restful.
Being in my own home means I can see the cobwebs, weeds and unashamed mess around the edges.
Having said that I have been to the beautician, the osteopath and Brighton.
The journey from our cottage to Brighton is a mile a minute. So we get there, on a good day, which it was, in about 38 minutes. Past sheep and wild fowl, past, churches and piano wearhouses, past organic farm shops and Lewes. Under the Cuilfal Tunnel, on the duel carriageway into Brighton. I get nostalgic since B went to Music school there. It makes me think of her bass playing and raggedy arsed muso’s.
The waves were as tall as a Cranky, the sun low, the wind fierce. The husband wheezed, the step daughter chatted, the grandaughter skootered and I breathed in the ozone. We had lunch in BILL’s.
Big wooden tables, shelves of artisan produce, plates so full even I couldn’t finish, and the clientele so friendly, sitting at a table with strangers and a talkative grandchild makes for good company.
We walked the seaside, the gunmetal salt water blustering over the shingle, the wind whistling through my pockets. I could feel the debris being sand-blasted out of my greying matter.
Took hot chocolate in a cafe where the tables perform. Jim looked very small as ours, a red topped formica jobby, slowly rose out of the floor. Two Lithuanian women laughed and giggled over their beer and babies. Another table spins round, a glockenspiel on the wall plays without any warning, the owner looks like Freda Karlo, only her art is music. They have music nights and home made food on a regular basis. A smile, from her red-lipsticked mouth, invited us back again. Unfortunately I don’t rememebr the bloomin name of the place….we didn’t want to leave but the baby was tired, so it was a warm hand shake and we were off. A short, sharp intake of breath as we struggled up and across the steep roads back to Hanover where Zoe lives.
The two bedroom houses look like Ireland. Pink pebble-dash, blue, green, ice cream colours. There are more pubs per corner than in County Kildare
Zoe is like Jim, handy, clever and very funny. I always feel so relieved that the logical two like me, can you imagine the trauma of loving Jim and not them.
We arrived back to the cottage in the dark. Put the saucepan of leek and potato soup on the gas stove, always better after a standing, then slurped the gloopy hot broth whilst watching the antics of THE JUNGLE CELEBRITIES. It is hard for me to watch as it’s so fatuous. I recorded the Children in Need concert from the Albert Hall.
I cannot deny I love TAKE THAT, I am beginning to really enjoy the LILLY ALLEN child and was moved when all the orchestra, sung along with Sir Paul.
I do worry though that television is eating itself.
We need new impetus, or maybe it’s always been like this, but the young feel like they don’t know what they’re doing.
I must have been like that but it was SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO long ago it’s not worth mentioning.
I have bought myself a wonderful pea green v-necked sweater, just the thing to curl up in when the rain is raining and to match the old man who is wearing his sage-coloured track suit, we’re like two green oaPeas in a pod.
3 thoughts on “Green oaPeas.”
Sounds like a lovely week, especially the leek and potato soup, enjoy.
Hello Jeni, that was a wonderfully descriptive post, I can almost smell the leek & potato soup! 🙂 I’m glad you’re having a nice break & hope you have a lovely weekend planned.
I’m on maahoosive doses of antibiotics, so I’ll be keeping a low profile & making some Christmas cards.
Who said “Were we EVER that young”? I always feel that way when I hear The Beatles!
I also have a fondness for Take That, as my cousin, many years ago, had 2 tickets for a show in Earls Court,(front row, horrifyingly enough) and invited, of all people, me. I ask you.What do I know about pop music? I stopped listening after the Beatles!!!
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