The River Files

London. There is a very nice train which leaves just after 10 and gets me to the Capital in time for a late lunch.

Arrived sufficiently early Station Cafe to breakfast today and the refrigerated section contained 2 of my very favourite things. – Coronation Chicken sandwich and an Apple Tango. There is a God.

Much later at Paddington while waiting for the 2103 hrs after intense Memorial service experience discovered fabulous bar/ pub called “Cabin’ where they sell Taittinger by glass. Damned expensive but so very worth it.

The memory of the daughter of the Deceased, starting her address composed and self assured then dissolving into shaking sobs while delivering her wonderful tribute, will stay with me for a long time. The woman Rabbi had to get up and comfort her at the Lectern.

Determined not to cry but felt tears trickling down despite best efforts. There can be few more distressing sights than a young person facing an untimely bereavement.

On a lighter, or perhaps paler note, it was a reunion of many old University Muckers and a chance to compare notes, or perhaps more realistically, outfits and figures.

Shocked to see one of the Class of…….. (date to be guesed at dear Reader) who was the greatest beauty of our year has allowed herself to go…gulp…. completely grey.

Her hair is still thick and well cut, her face still lovely and smiley but oh! The terrible grizzled helmet, cross between Teresa May and Christine Lagard.

Not sure what was most shocking about this – the terrible suspicion that I would possibly be as grey as her if cast away on a desert island or the realisation that one can never, ever give up on hair dyeing. It just is never a good look.

Lets face it, the last person in public life ever to be allowed to go grey was Barbara Bush.

Both taken in today and utter bliss the both of them.

Pouring with rain all day. Disgusting. All plans/activities cancelled. Our weekend guests, booked months ahead, wimped out on Wednesday due to a bereavement.But the nicest thing happened. About to go outside into the torrent and girding loins with hooded, mega-waterproof anorak when realised hood inside out. Struggled with it for a bit by the front door trying to right it.Suddenly felt little hands at my head behind me reaching up to rearrange the inverted hood, removing it popper by popper, then attaching it correctly. ” There you are Mum..all sorted”It was the dear little River Sprite with whom we have all been somewhat at loggerheads with of late due to teenage sulks and charmlessness.She was so kind. Perhaps she does still love me just a little bit after all?Meanwhile there is something wrong with our oven . Anything placed on top shelf, even for shortest time comes out black in a few seconds no matter what temperature set. Fish fingers were the victins today.

Delicious ginger ale on a foul rainy day love the graphics

Saturday – Company dance with set menu in posh, local hotel. Polite conversation, a few chuckles and then stunt Photobooth mayhem. So many of us, teetering in high heels giggling outside curtained booth then donning sombreros, viking horned helmets et al... Crammed in and striking poses for the flash…Must get stuck in.

Arrived at party in revolting, splashing rain all huddled under umbrellas in our evening finery- sagging feather boas and soggy sequins- will it never cease?

Sat next to my colleague who I like enormously. She is heavily pregnant. She massaged her stomach ostentatiously in slow, circular motions throughout the dinner. Why do pregnant women do that? I don’t remember doing that when pg.

I certainly didn’t. Noticed Meghan M did at least once and on TV.. Perhaps it is a new decree- issued by the Natural Childbirth police”.? “Thou shalt fetus massage, esp when in public”

Back to office party. Truth be told was in feverish state of excitement when saw across the room that my lovely hip- replacement Surgeon guru was “of the party”. YES!

4 tables away

This is because I am secretly in love.

He is the most divine, beautiful being of all time. Tall, muscular, slim, sensitive, caring with wonderfully expressive eyes. Trust me girls. Its true.

Couldn’t help my eyes straying towards him over and over-. He got up at one point. Be still my beating heart ! perhaps he might be about to stride over and enquire about my new, titanium hip.

He did not of course. Finally it was I who plucked up courage and teetered over his way for a petite chat. (These brave things are so much easier to do when one is a) not in the first flush of youth and b) has attended a public school)

We were eye to eye, so tall am I, in office party heels. We exchanged a few pleasantries and talked hips.

At length he said, ‘Remind me er. . when did I do it?”

June. It was beginning of June.

“And did I do the er…dual mobility?”

“Yes.”

Clunk. The divine one scarcely recognises me. Sob.

That put me back in my place. Slunk back to table and the gaggle of girls. Later saw him standing over at the table of the young, pretty, OPD girls. And why not.? They were unrecognizable out of their theatre caps and baggy scrubs. Waist length hair, to a woman and brilliant, white teeth. (A place called “Smile” in Exeter one of them once confided in me) They had Cleopatra eyes, boob tubes and short, bandage dresses swathed about their slim figures

Sad to be getting old on that score at least I decided. Sigh. The world belongs to them and is at their feet. Quite right too.

Long drive to S East on Sunday for a funeral Monday. Took flowers, hardy cyclamen, and placed them all over graves of my adored relatives. Good wake after funeral but then shocking drive home in typhoon level rain – aquaplaning, wipers on warp speed. Bored stiff despite BBC Sounds and cramps leading to near DVT.

Next day, woke up and slid down Jacobs ladder to depths of despair during a Ladies lunch on a brilliantly sunny Autumn day, in a gorgeous house with lovely food and entertainment laid on. on Dartmoor. What is the matter with me? Quite terrible . Wept buckets inexplicably at odd times all day and had cried all my freshly applied make up off by lunchtime. No one saw though. I am good at discreetly blubbing in my car, behind cubicle doors in ladies Lav. But cried any chance I got when alone. Hot, wet tears and rivers of them

All triggered by casual mention of Exmoor ponies in a conversation. Reminded me of my darling mother and a childhood pony – Exmoor of course. She read me Moorland Mousie once upon a time and gave a copy to my daughter.

Funny how easy it is to be ambushed by memories.

Went to see my lovely Lady who lives alone, save a heavenly, pale and affectionate cat. It was raining hard for first time. Previous visits have always been conducted with sun streaming through the windows which make her confinement to indoors all the more poignant. Her beautiful cat, habitually sunbathing between the net curtain and window pane was instead incredibly tactile with her. Charming to see. She was immobile in her chair – unable to move even her neck now – but how he sat on her lap and purred and how she smiled she stroked. Who says pet therapy does not work?

We talked of everything from teaching, to John Humphries final broadcast, through Saki and Charlotte Bronte and the reading of the Banns of marriage in Church. That led inevitably to bigamy and incest and on to Kim Cattrall’s appearance Who do you think you are?

She is a delight. When I began our visits thought I would be doing her a favour. Now I see it is the other way round.

Meanwhile river life continues apace. OFT has lost a huge amount of weight. Jeans looking too big by half. Pot belly receding. Soon he will have a six pack. Unexplained weight loss – often a sinister sign? Meanwhile he must wait another week to see his GP of choice. I feel a barage of tests coming on.

A

sheep is stuck on the waterside just below the kitchen. Poor thing. Also on way back from work last night caught a hare in my headlights. How rare!

In Church. Glorious day. Just remembered why I dont go anymore. The priest is a disgrace. God save the Church of England if this best they can do. Droning on….. his sermon is abysmal. I actually think he is ad libbing. Significant pauses, delivered one after and meaningful stares about the Congregation – with absolutely nothing to say. The only remotely interesting thing about the Service was hearing him a second reading of a Banns. Enjoyed singing “All things Bright” and “Plough the fields and scatter.” That was all. Reminded me of my childhood and primary school.

F

ell asleep while watching Sanditon with whole family tonight. Worrying as did not drift off to sleep on sofa as usual- slow fade out and noise vaguely discernible in background but one minute I was all buoyed up watching beginning of Sanditon the next woke up and it was over. Tv off – all gone out of room. Felt really bewildered. So sudden. So profound. Whats wrong?

My Dad was born today. He would be 88 today if still with us. Not so very old? Yet he died so long ago. When I see Rupert Murdoch -same age as him- prancing about all wrinkled and rich with luscious Jerry Hall on his arm can’t help feeling just a teeny bit jealous not to say faintly bitter and twisted. There is a birthday card I would so love to be sending today. Darling Dad. My favourite Libra in the world

So much to say goodbye to lately. John Humphries. Confess I blubbed at his final goodbye speech. Then Poldark. Oh Aidan! Going off so beautifully with a smile and the tails of his coat flapping in slow motion. Must record that short scene on my phone so I can delight myself during boring moments at work

Then Thomas Cook oh DEAR. Have had at least 3 hols with them in my life. Finally Boris in hot water with this Supreme Court thing.

Don’t know where to turn.

Such were the cries fron behind me in the Brexit Party Rally today at the Devon County Show Show ground. It was said so often, with such passion by same person had to look round eventually to see if it really was an elderly woman..very strident if so. Eventually saw it was a man.

Up and got ready for sailing Bbq fin se saison thing on River Dart A lot of shouting (by me) over breakfast on my part in getting the young up for which I had to apologise in car.

Bring on the Fishwife. God ….my (all) children are so SLOW and forgetful. Ask them to do things calmly and absolutely nothing happens. They slide out of the room and are discovered 10 mins later on their phones! I am driven into a foaming rage by them at drop of a hat these days.

Arrived at sailing club to find a rather muted affair. Dog did a poo in the Boat Park in front of people just as we arrived and I gad my best face on. Makes me SICK. Had to send River Sprite back to car (as she was leading the culprit) for poo bags – forgotten in hurried exit . Surprised to find party within, upstairs in Clubhouse. Sotto voce. Not quite the jolly, outdoors bash and burger-flipping fest of last year. Got the feeling there might have been an altercation about who…..er… won in the sailing? There was a word muttered under breath as we walked in about a finishing line issue.

The Commodore looked rather muted, vaguely shrunken in some sense and faintly . ..er well yellow in hue? Not quite normal, buoyant self . He was doing the washing up. Virtue signalling I had the feeling. Parchment skin. Perhaps his diet to lose weight and stave off hip replacement surgery too strict?

Then to Exeter to see, “Quite right Nigel”

Very gratified on return trip down A38 too see Motorway sign saying , “New freight tariffs will apply as of Nov 1st” Hooray .

It is happening people. Is it?

After drove, pony for last time ever with River Sprite and my chum O as escort. He wore his feather plume. (Pony, not O) for the occasion. It was incredibly emotional. How many times must have harnessed him up and driven him out in last 9 years.? All family members all friends been in my carriage. How marvellous it has been. River Sprite and B D were our escorts, clattering on ahead. After we shampooed pony and cleaned his little harness for last time put away in clear, plastic wrapper.