Author: riverfiles

Skipping along nicely Spring emerging, primroses on the bank, good day at work then odd call (missed) from a fam member just before I finished my Shift Seeing as we always Whattsapp and v occasionally text this direct contact was unusual. Probably making plans to stay at Easter I thought.

“All well?” (Me)

“No actually. All not well”.

Silence. That split second. Freeze and a million ghastly possibilities parade at high speed through the mind.

“What has happened?”

A family member has died unexpectedly in early hours of this morning.

A ghastly shock. He was on a skiing holiday for half term like me this time last week . Tonight in the evening his wife had to tell their very children he is dead. So upshot is as I write this a young man I know well a fam member is lying cold in a hospital morgue. His wife and children miserable at the family home. I am haunted by this. horrified.

Aghast.

Diary error today. Taking Old Father Thames on a jaunt to see “Cat” starring Sienna Millipede and….handsome, young male lead.. good God! Not him again? None other than Jack O’Connell, last seen by me only a few weeks ago as gorgeous bad boy and consummate horseman, Roy Goode in “Godless”

Jack O’C was first seen by me many years ago in “Skins”. Shocking, teenage, high-voltage drama thing which of course launched career of Dev Patel and which also contained a peculiarly revolting character – uncouth, hideous, playground yobbo named “Cook”.

Was astounded to discover ugly “Cook” had metamorphosized into the divine Roy Goode who I felt sure was played by an American. And then here he was tonight again beamed live from Young Vic with the with the lovely Sienna.

But about the diary thing. I had it clearly written down as 8pm only when we got there at 7. 45 whole place in silence…it had been on since 7pm. How did that happen? Old Father Thames had a cup of coffee in the bar where the punter’s interval pre -orders were labelled up on each table them and read the Times, flipping it open pointedly. I had driven him to the event – a rare occurrence in itself- and about half way through the journey he wound the passenger side window right down so the freezing February night air rushed in.

Why?

“Because I feel SICK “.

Why?

“As you know I hate being driven and you are so stop/start”

Afterwards we dissected it. He said “great performances but wd have liked to see first half”. I said I felt second half – just the one half – quite enough. T Williams SO depressing.

We both agreed nude scenes at end in which all was revealed for Jack O, C and Sienna Millipede were completely gratuitous .

Note: Today spat in test tube up to line used blue activator shaker and mailed off. I have done Ancestry.com DNA.

Everyone is doing it . Took River sprite out of school to Orthodontist today. She revealed while adjusting Sprite’s braces that she and her husband had given a DNA test to each other as an Xmas gift.

She knew she was mostly south European but came out in test as mostly as German and he came out as one small part Southern European but mostly Viking and was thrilled.

We wait to see…. 6 weeks apparently.

Near Bovey Tracey deciding to sell ski clothes . My grandmother used to say one of life’s greatest pleasure is when u know you have done something for the last time. I knew last Friday afternoon in Les Deux Alpes returning to the village via Jandri 1, (blue run) it was my last ever ski. Done a lot of it over the years but never again ….

We bought the ski clothes, many second hand, end of Jan from a warehouse and were served by nice, young woman with a promise we could bring back after the hols and a cheery “We will try and sell them 4 you no problem” so washed, folded nicely and presented in same bag we bought em in I went to return. Straight away there was a different atmosphere. Really dirty dishevelled, even by rural Devon standards, looking middle aged woman seated in back room who did not even approach counter barely looked up from her phone and said “alright?” In a distinctly disinterested tone.

No she would not take clothes to sell second hand as “We no longer do that”

I protested, ” but but but…the young girl who served us said….”

“Well she shouldn’t have we don’t do that any more”

“But it was specifically asked and she said.. .”

“Well you will have to come back tomorrow and speak to her then. “

“But I have made a special trip!”

“In that case will have to get me partner”

She came out from behind the counter, went downstairs and came back with an even filthier looking man.

He remonstrated for a while but then said he would sell them but that we would only get 50 per cent of the price and of that half would be given vouchers for shop.

“But we don’t want to ski again ever . We would have no use for vouchers.”

The words sounded harsh in the shop and seemed to ricochet round the goggled mannequins with their fixed smiles, knees bent in skiing position and jaunty woolly hats .

“Then that’s going to be an issue” said the grubby man .

I did my best for a while, “but the Lady said….and that was the understanding on which we bought ….”

Failed. Agreed best thing was to sell via his Facebook page. Signed and heaved it all back in bag again. A lot of photographing to be done. What a bore. Wasted trip.

First primrose spotted. Plane to Chambery. 1 hr 20 mins. Resolved on email free half term but unable to resist one, last check while in check-in queue with many anorak families carrying skis to check em one last time. They did not disappoint. One from Loony tenants, fulminating and throwing toys out of cot words practically sizzling off page. My kind lawyer to whom I forwarded it (who clearly works weekends) sent a “there there ” pacifying type email .

Once in Chambery took my moon boots out of small case and put away my pumps. Pulled on moon boots rather gingerly. 10 years since last worn and had resided in attic of our former home. Wondered if I might feel a dead mouse up near the toe …Fortunately not Robert Dyas vacuum pack had done its work.

Ewe lamb and I cannot believe it has still 4 days ago. Never has a month seemed so long. Both agreed seems an eternity – a good 2 months since I said sad farewell to him on New Year’s day and began this blog and yet technically it is less than 1 month….in that time so much has happened. He has: Got a new flatmate via spare room. Applied for a job at Google – “Gotta swing the bat Mum”, given notice on his flat and booked a holiday in Dubai. Arranged to organise an Ant Brotherhood” by moving in with Big bro and Dad to save money.

Spring like today for first time. Actually woken up by birds at 0820hrs. Rather irritating a actually

Children Skiied at Plymouth dry slope. Then Prince Philip cup Mounted games at Ermington . On way back a song came on radio that reminded me of recently departed close family member . By chance I dreamed of that person last night and such a joyful, albeit tearful, reunion it was. So hard to wake up today and let go. Literally felt the beloved slipping through my fingers I turned the corner to consciousness, so vivid was it.

When THE song came on the radio, car went silent and we listened to most of it before river sprite saw me put a hand to my eye and looked up at me. Good blub ensued on my part. ” “The thing is darling, I said sniffling loudly, “this reminds me so much of.. ”

She looked down at her lap, almost wearily and cut me short, sad, low voice – “I know Mum…..I know”.

It occurred to me then I don’t remember my parents crying in front of me ever about a dear departed relative and there must have been many. They would look at a photo or portrait and say matter of factly, “of course your dear ‘xxx died in such and such a place on….”

Gone soft? My generation gone soft?

Day of rage Friday Jan 26th

Going to bed with sore throat from screaming at the dogs who ran off up the road into the dark. Absolute disaster. OFT, neighbours and local farmer Giles have warned this must NOT happen again- it being lambing season and all. But it did. Shotguns have been threatened and OFT has mentioned the most horrible of words if they cannot be controlled..th2st is “rehoming”. Later recovered the beasts but most terrible, screeching anxiety and driving round countryside in pitch dark for 45 mins, mud splashing up sides of car on farm tracks, blowing gundog whistle out of car window and calling out into black night. Larynx had a real workout for sure.

Day began with catty session in cafe where I do Voluntary work.

Nasty, non-Volunteer who has been apparently alienating other Volunteers with her condescension, abruptness and downright rudeness had a go at me today and – boy oh boy – I went for it. Thought “I’m not having that …someone speaking to me like that in front of others at my age …and let fly.

She gaped at me, appalled.

“Oh my God! ” she said twice in rapid succession, physically starting back in shock – as if being struck, her face said it all . “Someone has actually dared to confront me and is answering me back but how can this be? I am ‘She who must be obeyed’

It was a catfight in the staff kitchen the likes of which I have not had in many a year.

At one point I said to her, “As you will learn …I do give as good as I get”

That’s it I thought, knowing she is in cahoots with the catering Manager who recruits volunteers. BANG goes my nice Voluntary gig. And I was so enjoying it. Quite apart from feel good factor of being of some use I have learned to make a mean Latte and am a dab hand with the sausage-roll heat testing probe. Catering Manager then came up obviously irritated at being dragged away from her computer screen and said I had to “step out”. We went into the “Quiet reflection” room. Flowers, box of tissues, mood music, comfy chairs, scented candles and a sign outside pronouncing it an area “For you To pause and reflect ”

As I sat down at the invitation of my Boss who began with, “Well obviously there has been an incident” and, “Things have been said downstairs.”

Couldn’t help thinking that some unfortunate bereaved or soon- to- be- bereaved relative might be hovering outside hoping to come and ‘pause and reflect’, only to hear self and boss woman saying through the ajar door “And she said this and I said that so then she said and I said….” in a rat-a-tat style… “…..And she accused me of throwing tea bags into the wrong sink and not washing my hands quickly enough after I blew my nose”

Luckily Manager seemed supportive and expressed concerns over bossy woman’s ability to put off Volunteers. She thanked me for being frank and for giving up my time to help. She reminded me the organisation had 1, 000 Volunteers and that if that amount of people had to be paid min. wage the Project would founder.

On way at home was approaching the roundabout at Plymstock /A379 when a “Private Ambulance” driver held up a hand stopping me very definitely . I was stuck plum in the middle of roundabout. Just me. A smart young Lady in black with shortish shirt, close fitting jacket and top hat and veil streaming out behind, stepped out onto the roundabout and walked solemnly taking extended, deliberate steps weilding a long, black cane. The hearse followed. The pub on the corner had many people, mostly youngish and all in black stepping out onto pavement to watch. It was a beautiful day. The rolling top of Dartmoor just visible in distance above the city rooftops. As the hearse went by and I saw the coffin within, tears sprang to my eyes and trickled down my cheeks. Not sure why. A couple of other cars containing mourners passed and then with a wave of a hand from Private Ambulance man, I was released from my mid roundabout position..

On way to and from work listened to horrifying radio 4 serials about a future NHS a world without free antibiotics. Aghast. A place where people had to pay for them £15 – 20,000 or face amputation of infected limbs as a much cheaper option. Shudder.

In London with Old Father Thames some of this week. First time had left the River in a while. When I return, more snowdrops out on the bank. Still incessant rain and mud of incalculable volume. As we alighted on the platform in big City first thing OFT said was. “Notice anything different?” I was about to say (as all folk arriving from the West Country think and purely from observational point of view might say), “Wow! Yes people of all every possible shade and hue everywhere London truly is a Nation State!” But OFT said, “No mud. Look actually NO mud” On the way back from Big City I sat at one of the table seats in Coach F. All alone. OFT prefers airline style seat and sat behind and no one came to sit in my 4 seat enclave. What bliss. Across the corridor from me, also at table seat, was a woman with 2 children- sulky, verge of teenager types, with a deep, gravelly voice- probably their grandmother I decided without looking at her, on account of voice deepness. Switched on Russian course on IPad and noise cancelling headphones but could still hear mature, gravelly, vaguely familiar voice. Was it…. Marianne Faithful? No. Too young. Anita Pallenberg? No. She’s just died. Someone else. It came to me after snooze, ticket check and listening to whole of Clapton’s “Pilgrim”. So a good hour in, I realised It was Mariella Frostrup. The normal thing would have been to cast a furtive glance. So I deliberately did not . In fact studiously avoided looking her way and OFT and I observed afterwards (he had not recognised her) how she talked an awful lot. Really using that trademark voice to reverberate around the railway carriage. To the two girls: “You should get some more joy in your life” To another child on phone,”Hi darling how was your Match?” And “Ask Daddy if he needs anything? We’ll be home soon”. To a friend (loudly) “Hi it’s Mariella” Almost, I decided later, as if she wanted if not was determined to be recognised. Must be quite disconcerting to be famous or have been so – particularly for possessing a distinctive voice- and find the gen. public completely unresponsive….

Saw ‘Darkest Hour’ last night. Gary Oldman unrecognizable but Masterful as Churchill and Kristin Scott-Thomas (as Clemmie) has become even more beautiful with age. Posting this in car park waiting for River Sprite’ s bus. So bloody cold have had to rip open an emergency, skiing hands warmer pack from the glove compartment. Car park boasts a bottle recycling skip which has just benefited from the very few empties just brought up from our home. Old Father Thames has proudly, but grumpily achieved 8 days without booze. Our empties today then were ; small jar Colman mustard, one elderflower cordial and one wine bottle.

Back to the cinema trip. I wore brand new Jack Wills cream bobble hat with interchangeable poms poms (3 o f them) which snap fasten to the top. Weather so vile last night that did not notice when exiting the car furry, greyish FURRY bobble and hat had parted company. So sad. After the film we made our way back to car, heads bowed against wind and near horizontal rain. Suddenly old Father Thames spotted a road kill in headlights of an approaching car. Could it be? We approached cautiously YES! The bobble. Drenched and crushed like a small rodent was recovered and is now drying out.

Talking of road kill and rodents took dog to vet yesterday as constip. unresolved. Terrible scenes of straining- yelping in pain when defecating and had to scoop up horrid pellet thing into Dolmio white lasagne jar to present in sugery. “Harumph” said vet. “He’s been eating wild animals That’s bone and animal hair pellet “. Oops result of madcap escapade last week when both dogs went awol all day long…..

Just finished another session of “Godless”- Our data reset is tomorrow and we still have l80gb left so….. cue bingewatch on the Fatboy beanbag with my knitting while rest of house asleep. What incalculable bliss. Not sure with whom who I am most in love. .. handsome baddie Roy Goode or the pale, dun horse of visually impaired Marshall chap. Simply the best Television imaginable. Aren’t we lucky to live in such an age?