|Rambling in North East Derbyshire|
"Rambling" is a good word. It is quite uncontrolled and free for rambling does not follow a plan of action. Synonyms for "rambling" include circuitous, digressive, by way of, meandering and roundabout.
You can get rambling roses that climb up walls or trellises - doing their own thing. In conversations or monologues, people may ramble as they move in an instinctive manner between topics and stories. Also, we must not forget rambling as a synonym for country walking. In fact, the leading walkers' organisation in Britain called itself The Ramblers Association. Needless to say I am not a member - for I am not one for joining clubs or organisations. Forgive me for rambling.
Yet this particular blogpost will be a rambling one.
Stewart and Frances went south yesterday afternoon with their fifteen week old unborn foetus. Alfred is currently the strong favourite name if the babe is male and Phoebe remains the only name Frances will entertain for a girl child. They will be spending two nights in Bristol with Stew's parents before heading home to north London.
As soon as they had gone, Clint carried me up to "The Norfolk Arms" at Ringinglow. I sat outside with Mick and Mike and a former policeman called Danny. I drank two pints of delicious "Barnsley Bitter" while Mike and Danny drank "Moonshine" by our local Abbeydale Brewery. We chattered away like old women in a knitting circle. (I hope that last remark is not sexist.)
|Frances and Stewart on honeymoon in Sri Lanka|
In the evening, after watching the last of a gripping Australian TV drama called "The Secrets She Keeps", I resumed my work upon a new wedding album for Frances and Stewart - using an online photobook design facility by Cewe Photoworld. I am putting in pictures from their two honeymoons - in Tuscany and Sri Lanka - and even a couple of photos from the time Stewart proposed to our princess on a mountaintop in Austria. For me, making this album is a conscious act of paternal love - in the full knowledge that it will be around long after I have gone. I want it to look brilliant, capturing a magical, happy time in all our lives before The Virus arrived like an invisible character in a horror film.
Looking outside, I can see that our front privet hedge needs a haircut - just like me. If it stays dry this afternoon I shall trim it - the hedge, not my hair which Bert described as looking like a "bird's nest" on Thursday night. I have my first ever proper hair appointment next week. Normally I just walk in or walk away.
And that, my cuddly blogophiles, is enough rambling for today...