The Equinox

The last of the blackberries

So here we are and it is three quarters through another year. I have started thinking about Christmas already. Where has the time gone? Officially this is the season of mellow fruitfulness, wet socks, regretted decisions over my choice of outdoor clothing and runny noses. It is also the end of my summer regime of cold showers. I will try and continue for as long as I can but wintery weather has turned me into a wimp.

I am an advocate of cold showers. I enjoy "the burn" as I feel enlivened. I admit it is a shock to the system and it does take a bit of adjustment but once you know what to expect, I think it is truly worth it. It is easier in the summer and even easier when you are in a hot country. It is the "wimp" part of me that says I need only do cold showers between March 21st and September 21st. I will continue for as long as I can though.

The Orchard- fruit falling as well as leaves

The other day, after a blast of unseasonally hot weather it started to rain. It wasn't the sort of rain you can go out in either. It was driving, heavy rain that you can't ignore even when you are indoors because it hits the windows so loudly. It was like we had gone from summer to winter in a blink. I decided to sort out my summer stuff and put them at the back of my cupboard. I couldn't imagine another warm, sunny day til next year. My tennis skirts got packed away along with other lightweight clothes. That, I thought was a worthy job done for the year. 

I went off to play tennis on Friday and it was as warm as before the rains. I really should have worn a skirt. British weather is all over the place. We should be happy for all the lovely days we have but I know that these extremes are proof that we are turning the world into a potential disaster zone. I cycled back from the orchard in strong winds and rain last Tuesday. I wobbled precariously over the Iron Trunk Bridge. The fierce cross wind played havoc with my balance. What is even more worrying is British government's attitude to "net zero". It is not a vote winner so they are doing the ostrich thing. At least they won't be watching when someone bites them on the bottom because their heads will be buried. Small consolation.

Sammi has now left for Brighton and his new adventure. As a leaving present he gave me a cold while he gave Nasser a racket. Thanks Sam! It was lovely having him around though. Now he has gone I have thought of lots of little jobs I should have asked him to do while he was around. He left after I had played in the tennis finals so my head was full of other stuff. Come back soon; I'll have my list of jobs ready for you. The longer Sammi leaves it, the longer the list will inevitably be. 

Google lets me down so often it isn't really news any more. I went to Stevenage via a circuitous route - a route chosen by google! It took me through the centre of Luton at rush hour. I realised on my return that most of the roads around Ampthill had recently been resurfaced. There were no road markings. Even better there were no potholes. Normally British roads give motorists and cyclists the opportunity for slalom as you need to weave your way around really deep potholes. The Ampthill route is the one I would normally choose. Waiting at traffic lights at roadworks would have been a better bet than wending my way through Leagrave in Luton! Bloody Google!

Rites and Rituals

 I have thought long and hard about whether  the word, "habit" is another but less savoury word for a ritual. Habits are usually bad things we want to break. Is my early morning drink of strong black coffee a habit or a ritual? It is something that I have maintained for years and  it is paramount even when I am not in a home routine. This more than anything else in my day is important to me. Whether it counts as a ritual or a habit my son came up trumps and brought me coffee in bed the other day. This, I would love to raise to an almost religious experience. I am happy for him to stay in my home if this were to become a regular occurrence.  

Hampton Court

I have just been out to celebrate my birthday this week too. Please don't send me good wishes. My birthday was at the end of May but this was the first opportunity my friend, Ann had to have a day out with me. We went to Hampton Court - glorious sun, great company - great day out all round. Even though my birthday was a long time ago, it was still great way to celebrate. After all, celebrating birthdays is a rite - I have big plans to belatedly celebrate Danielle's birthday.

An old Friend- Ann

The only downside  of our trip was the cafe at Hampton Court. Neither of us had a good word to say about the lunch we bought. If it had been Henry Vlll, he'd have had some heads rolling if he'd been served such stuff. We just had to make up for it by having some vino when we got home - a ritual perhaps?

The River Thames at Hampton Court

I am also beginning to think about Christmas too. Christmas Day is my BIG day. It is a rite and a ritual. It too follows a routine and it is an opportunity to play lots of games. I love games! Christmas' past are still in my memory and each year I just hope to better myself in my celebrations. It is a family ritual that I hope Ezra-Mae will grow up to remember fondly.

We also said goodbye to a very dear friend this week. Someone who I have shared many Christmas' with. It was a lovely sending off and a beautiful way to remember her. Nowadays we are far more flexible in our beliefs and this was a humanist celebration and very poignant. We returned home and continued the celebration by raising a glass in my local pub while we had our supper there. Cheers!

I heard somewhere  a long time ago that there is a belief that people die twice. They die when their body gives up on them and then again when they are spoken about for the last time. To live on in the memory of others is a very powerful thing. I still remember my Aunty Rose. She was the person who started my tennis career.  So when you face me on court, you now know the history of why I am still playing. Aunty Rose was actually my grandmother's aunt  so she was my great great aunt; and I still talk about her and wear jewellery passed down to me. To me, she is very much in my thoughts. 

Writing this it is dawning on me that I really should indulge and "love" myself by elevating my good habits to rituals. - drinking my morning coffee while listening to the birds - yes, that is a ritual!

Same but different

 

My local

I have been around for rather a long time. I got to thinking that while I was on a country walk in the unusual heat of September. Being in the countryside is something I have enjoyed all my life and the British countryside is essentially the same as it was when I was a child. Britain is beautiful in all its seasons.

In fact, after a little research about the Doomsday Book written in the 1100s, the countryside has changed little. In 1974 the county boundaries were very similar. the current names of places were mostly already established by Doomsday days, (Milton Keynes existed back then) and; apparently the farming land use in the  early 1900s hadn't changed much either.

One man operation

However, watching a solitary man in a massive farm machine harvest a large field of ripened wheat, I realised how much has also changed since my childhood. Most people here have lost their connection to the land, and after reading about UPF (ultra processed food) - who can fail to have noticed the news about it to be honest, we have also lost our connection to what we eat.

When I was a child, the evening meal was meat and two veg. Sunday roast for me was over cooked with slushy veg and well-done meat. My mother embraced the frozen food revolution of the 1970s and that is when I had fish fingers and frozen pizza. My happy food memories from my childhood were my Nana's cooking. She was my supercook. My grandfather encouraged me to steal dried fruit for him from the kitchen as he was bed-ridden. Such are my memories of food.  Frankly, food is much more interesting now.

Since the issues of UPF first hit front line news, I reflected on my diet. Way back last May I consciously gave up eating anything that had chemicals, emulsifiers and other things I don't recognise. It has been worth it. My allergic reactions are far less frequent. I don't get as hungry - perhaps that is because it is summer too. Also, because I have now got into the habit of buying a limited range of stuff, it doesn't take any longer to buy my groceries. The down side is when I eat out. Most sauces are no nos.

Visits to the hairdressers over the years have remained stubbornly the same. I have just had my hair cut in a hairdressers some distance from my normal one. The hairdresser, as with most hairdressers, was bent on interrogation. She asked me the usual trivial questions and then asked them again. "So where do you live?", "What do you do?", "Has your hair always been curly?" Questions like these don't lead to much variation in the answers however many times they are asked. I just dream of having my hair cut in almost silence contemplation. In Singapore the hairdressers said to me, "Your hair very expensive to cut!" - They meant "difficult". I have three crowns so the Chinese also say I am very naughty. Even they wanted to talk their way through cutting my locks.

The Real Ale and Cider festival in my local was heaving. We have come full circle and real ales are mainstream these days. The queue for the REAL ones was far too long so I settled for an imaginery one which still made me feel quite drunk. This surprised me as I knew it wasn't real. 

More unvelievable than not real... I played a mini tournament and a club championship tennis match in 30+c over this weekend. It wasn't the same sort of heat that I played in in Singapore. I have been playing tennis since I was seven years old but this heat in the UK is not nice. It was probably my experience in Singapore kept me standing and I ended up in the final of the mini tournament. I certainly didn't feel this exhausted after tennis when I was younger. Just the finals of the club championships next weekend to survive.

My Rodney!

And the walls came tumbling down

The real deal

I'm in the Doldrums. This happens to everyone and it is part of the rich tapestry. A very dear friend of mine has recently died so that has made for some serious introspection. Whatever age one lives to it is never enough and when someone dies before their time it seems unjust too. 

I have now come round to reminiscing about the old days. We used to have a weekly training session. We were dedicated and made sure we had the right equipment too - a cork screw, two wine glasses, a dog to fuss and lots to talk about! The preferred tiple was a Cock and Bull Shiraz which tasted especially good when it was on offer at S$17.80 at NTUC Fairprice. The full cost was normally S$37. So important was it that we drank the right stuff that we would let each other know when we saw it on offer! Rachel told me that one friend was impressed that she was training so regularly- her friend, of course,  thought it was the training that needed gym equipment! Never let it be said that holding a glass steady for a long period of time while chin wagging doesn't require dedication.

Rachel in her new home

So it was lovely that Diane and Jeremy suggested we went out for a pub crawl in Stony Stratford as a tribute to Rachel. This is the home of the "Cock and Bull" story! We started off at The Cock sitting outside in the courtyard. It rained. We went inside to a crowded bar and were invited to join two ladies sitting at table with spare seats. They told us they were off to an Abba tribute band that evening so the table would be all ours shortly.

All was well UNTIL the older of the two asked me if Jeremy was my son. WHAT!!!! Nice man, good son... but not mine. He is no more than a couple of years younger than me. Our similiarity lies in us having the same colour curly hair. I was saddened, flabberghasted, distraught.... How could anyone think I was heading for at least 80 years of age? I would have needed to be this to have had him!

That part of the evening left a big dent in my ego. Another reason for sinking into my despondency. So feeling rather deflated, we walked briskly in the rain 20 yards up the road to the Bull for a further pint or two. 

I walked to Stony in sunshine with Lucky and I had planned to walk home. I had my bike lights to guide me along the canal. Drinking for me wasn't an issue that night. I was up for a bit of a walk. We laughed about the VERY old dear who had thought I was Jeremy's mother. We remembered Rachel and raised a glass to her. At this point I was beginning to think I would be doing my drowned rat impression which I am now really good at. As the rain was by now so torrential, Jeremy offered to drive Lucky and myself home. A reason to be cheerful indeed.

Dark clouds and silver linings are part of all our lives. These past few weeks have led to too many dark clouds and it has been hard to see the silver linings. Sammi missed a flight to Manila from Amsterdam by just 4 minutes a while ago. He called me from the airport to get angry with me. He did however sort himself out. He came to a good decision and had to buy another two plane tickets for that flight and a connection. He clearly thought that Mum can solve the all the problems that befall him. If only I had that power. 

Then more recently, Danielle found there was a missing drawer in a bedside table in her garage. That was my fault too. I haven't lived in that house for 2 and a 1/2 years by the way. I took a lot of ear ache over that wooden drawer.

I'm now telling everyone that I am fallible. I make mistakes. I am human and I don't possess the capacity to sort out the troubles of this world. If you are under the impression that I possess such powers then I see that as a silver lining. I ask you, please give me a break. I need your help too, especially while I am feeling low.