Back From Scotland

Back From Scotland

I’m back from Scotland and, greatly though I enjoyed my trip there to see my family, happy to be so. A friend here, also returning from the Uk, said familiarity can be underestimated: knowing where your hearing aid, tooth brush, change of socks, shoes is, etc. I agree. I’ve come to accept my status as an old dodderer. If I needed any further proof, my perpetual motion machine of a granddaughter provided it. The photos below are evidence of my visit, if not of the perpetual motion.

 I loved the house that my daughter and family have recently moved to, to have a garden in which granddaughter Eilidh has already grown magnificent carrots, which she adores; maybe she will continue the gardening tradition of my extended family. It’s a turn of the (last) century house, built like the proverbial brick s**thouse, with spacious rooms and solid hard wood banisters and door/window surrounds and high ceilings. It’s a style I associate with Glasgow now and wonder about the reason for the very high ceilings; how on earth did they manage to heat the rooms in the past? 

 We did nothing particular as I was happy just to be with them but seemed to find something interesting to do each day; always including some time when Eilidh could expend her excess energy. A lot of the time it rained but you have to expect that in Scotland, although the photos show that there were sunny spells too.

 

I then took the train to London to stay for a couple of days with my old friend Margaret and meet up with my son Carl. We went for lunch to Zedel, my favourite restaurant in the heart of Piccadilly, and I was able to pass on to Carl my bag of duck and sausages brought from France. And there was time for Margaret and I to have long conversations over bottles of wine before my departure from Gatwick. Friends Jacques and Claudine were at Marignane to greet me from where they had started me on my journey.

While in the UK I was struck by the kindness of strangers. When about to add to my Oyster card at Euston station a man approached me to offer a one-day travel card for which he had no further use. A young woman offered to take my case up a flight of stairs at Stockwell station. I’ve learned not to be too proud to accept these offers of generosity so accepted both gratefully. But I wonder…...now can such considerate people tolerate a government that is so overtly cruel, and for how long? When will British people see through the flag-waving government tricks, overcome their xenophobia and come to their senses?

Once back I knew I had to get down to gardening, both at my house and in my allotment. A visit to my allotment produced an abundance of tomatoes, peppers, chillis and aubergines which I quickly converted into pasta sauces or gave away. Since then I have done nothing there but watering but I have ordered a garden shredder for which I have a lot of material and which I shall put on the ground there to conserve moisture. At home I have mostly cleared the dead debris and planted pansies, cyclamen and bulbs which, I hope, will provide a little colour through the winter and a good display in the spring. I can’t disappoint the villagers who come regularly to see the flowers I have on display.

There’s a bit more clearing up to do but I feel I’m now on course to go through the winter. I will be free to catch up on reading, watching films and football and wait for the spring. A few days after my return friend Jean-Claude invited me for a curry and gave me a copy of a book he has had published on the ancient statuary of west Nepal. At Gatwick airport I bought the latest Ian McEwan book and both are lengthy tomes so I have a deal of reading to catch up on.