The times, they are a-changing

Had a conversation yesterday with the postmistress. The Post Office is laying off posties. Considering that years ago students could always get a job delivering the extra Christmas mail, this seems astonishing. But then, it seems that Christmas cards themselves may soon be a thing of the past. Now that it costs 50p to post each one, folks are sending messages on Facebook to say 'this is my card to all my friends' or are sending one but including a note that requests your phone number because next year they'd rather ring, for free.

But will they keep that up? Would I? Or will that become a chore? Imagine the conversation in years to come:

"Whose turn is it to phone the next person on the list?"
"Oh, do I have to?"

Plus no decorative Christmas cards, no joy of trying to guess the handwriting on the envelope. You'd better hang on to this years; they may become antiques.

The other part of the conversation was about a family row because her daughter had sat at one end of their sitting room TEXTING her daughter-in-law at the other! More and more social interaction (can it even be called 'social', shouldn't it be 'virtual'?) is conducted electronically. Better not leave visiting your Facebook page for too long, or you'll miss out.

Even HoF, now retired, spends most of the day doing things on the pooter because that's the way everything is conducted, and it gets harder to prise him out of the house. We can order shopping, buy our postage, conduct our banking transactions, find the news, the weather, book our holidays all online. And with tablets etc we can keep it up even if we do venture out of the house. Our eyes need never leave the screen.

It's a strange new world that's coming. I'd better get off this thing myself. Now knitting, there's one thing I don't need a computer for.

London

 We are back from a super long weekend in London, having done more walking than we'd do here in the equivalent time. It was super. We saw an exhibition AND two shows AND two craft markets, travelled on train, tube, bus, Docklands Light Railway and ordinary train besides shanks' pony.

 We went on the Cutty Sark which was apparently at the 1951 festival of Britain so I might have seen it then except I was too young to remember!

 Christmas in Covent Garden market.

 And 'Let it Be' a brilliant reprise of the Beatles which even the musically critical HoF thought was fantastic.

Flood

HoF was out with his pointy spade clearing the drains in the road to ease the flood for the children coming to school. The rain has stopped and we have heavy frost and blue skies this morning.

What is he doing?

Swiss break

 Rebecca on the carousel. Fancy choosing a spinning one! She'll make a good traveller.

 Lakeside view

 Girls and their friends

Rebecca was quite often in 'Fairy' mode, waving her wand over me.

St Martin's Fair, Switzerland

Happy Birthday to me

When I think about it, I've had a really good week.
Monday I went to art class and learned about impasto. First time I'd used a pallet knife since school or college. In the evening to Singing where we learned a specially written song about Bonfire Night. Not that there were any fireworks around then. maybe Halloween has taken over from Guy Fawkes. Although there was a really good display last night in someone's garden which I watched from the landing window.

Tuesday I went to the Diocesan Evangelical Fellowhip and heard a presentation on Thinking Biblically and Ethically. I stayed to lunch too, and hadn't realised it cost extra. Whoops! had to borrow from a friend. Then went to visit a retired missionary who lives in a dinky flat near the market. And back to town in the evening to see 'Hope Springs' a good idea with an imperfect script.

On Wednesday I went to South-town to have a hair cut, and bought wool to knit leg-warmers when I'm away and an art pad for painting when I'm away. Probably won't be needed but it's best to be prepared. Then to visit a friend in hospital who is now reconciled to leaving her lovely home when she is discharged. Which also related to my current thinking on housing for seniors, as there's some land for sale in the village which I rather hope will be put to that use.

Today was spent packing and cleaning, and then I opened my presents at lunchtime as I'll be away on the day. How old? Well, that might be why I'm thinking about housing for seniors, and using that US term rather than 'elderly'. Tonight we're going to a bring and share housegroup meal thingy, to learn about values and vision of the church in town.

And tomorrow?
I'm going to hug my granddaughters.

Going away

My auntie Marjorie rarely went on holiday. 'Too much packing and unpacking' she said. I found that really hard to understand, but now as I enter my senior years (I think, but not sure which birthday that happens) I have an awful feeling I'm headed that way. With dates booked to go away, there is suddenly a yawning hole in the diary, because who knows what might happen in that space? Will it be too much or not enough? Will I get cranky if I'm out of my usual routine? What will I do if I don't sleep in a strange house? I think this is supposed to be called being adventurous, but could it be that a time comes when we'd rather have the predictable? O, how dull.

Now HoF likes to have everything planned. Checks on Googlemaps exactly where each bend in a road comes between airport and hotel. Has lists of possible trains to catch. Whereas I like some surprises and the serendiptious. Or I did.

So if you wonder why we seem to be having so many outings and trips, it's because we'd better get on and do so while we can. Maybe a round-the-world ticket is the answer..................... Sorry about the inheritance, kids.

Cousin Dee

Last weekend we had a visit from American Cousin Dee. One of a vast family of cousins whom we would never have met were it not for a letter written in 1880, preserved by a man who had been given it by his aunt, even though he didn't know who it was from. It was from Dee's ancestor and led to restoration of cross-Atlantic realtionships. On such slender threads do our family connections hang. Dee is an adventurous lass who travelled to England to do research for novels she is writing. We took her to visit cousins, the original family cottage and Elan Valley all of which she embraced enthusiastically. We had never seen the dams in full spate before, a lovely sight.

Joys of Herefordshire

Peak District week

We stayed firstly near this picture postcard idea of what an English village should be like. We didn't know beforehand it would have a village green compete with duck pond. Two hotel/pubs, a tea room-cum-post office, a cheese shop and two village stores. Only downside was that there seemed to be a lot of holiday cottages; the locals priced out of the house market in the interests of tourism.



 This was the view from our caravan which I attempted to paint.


Walking in Dovedale

Because of this

Holiday

Had two weeks away in our dilapidated old caravan. One aim was to make the most of our NT membership. We managed four properties in the first week and then got rather jaded.

Met us with some old friends at Buscot Park (our third site), maybe you can spot us among the terracotta warriors. If not the next one will reveal all.


And then we went to Chastleton House. Last time we were there, maybe 28 years ago, it had been in private hands.

We took a photo of the front doorsteps, for old times' sake......

Supermarket Hate

I am getting  increasingly to hate supermarket shopping. The one advantage they have over a village shop is Choice. But now the Choice had become an exercise in arithmetical calculation. I want a chicken. Just a chicken. But I have to compare price per kilo, or price per item, free range or not, place or origin, type of feed and probably more that my confused brain can't recall.

The same goes for the vulgar sounding Bogoffs. I may only want some tomatoes but now I have to wrestle with brain, and conscience, over whether I really need two lots for the price of one because it's an amazing bargain regardless of the fact I may have to throw half away because they'll be bad before I finish them. And no, I don't want to spend a day making tomato jam. Or would I like 3 for the price of two and have some peaches maybe, and some other item thrown in, although I was trying to stick to my menu and my shopping list.

The whole thing is getting horrendous and I don't believe it saves money because the choice thing means you see more stuff to buy you hadn't even thought of buying. And if it is terribly cheap, then who is losing out? Certainly not the supermarket, so some poor producer somewhere. Which is another problem for my conscience.

I was around when the first supermarkets arrived. Our local was a George Mason, and it was seven miles away. Before then my mother phoned her weekly grocery list to my Auntie Jean who brought the shopping in her van, the milk was delivered daily, the butcher was a mile's walk away or he delivered, and there was a village shop for other items. It was service. Now I wonder who is serving whose interests.

Family reunion

All the children (well nearly), first or second cousins to one another.


The age range, 3 weeks to 92 years. Well done, Auntie Joan.

Favourite photo

Young photographer of the weekend took my favourite photo: a rare one of all my three offspring looking good, smiling even, at the same time.

Photobook

Our present for Swiss Son's 40th birthday was a photobook which had been months in the making, wading through albums, scanning, selecting, designing. It only just arrived in time. Here he is enjoying it whilst trying to keep sticky fingers at bay.

Swiss No1 granddaughter enjoyed it too.

Family weekend, Pop and grand-girls