Friends

I woke up this morning. This is something I've been doing for over eight decades and something I hope that I will be doing for some years to come providing that my mental faculties remain reasonably able to steer me through the day without too much trouble. 

Someone asked me recently if I had any male friends. I thought it was a very strange question and said so and asked why such an assumption should be made. Apparently it was very simple. I have coffee in The Woodlands several times a week at least. All the people with whom I have coffee are friends I have known for many many years (at least two I have known for over half a century). However all my 'coffee mates' are female. Why? Because their husbands are no longer with us.  I do have one male friend and former colleague I've known for 51 years with whom I have lunch in The Woodlands every Friday. His wife died a couple of years ago after many years of illness. 

On a Saturday morning I used to meet my son, Gaz, for coffee in An Lanntair (the local arts centre) whilst my grandson went to his drama class.  About half way through a friend (whom I've met for coffee on a Saturday morning for many years) would come and join us and then Gaz would take Brodie swimming.  Some say that routine is boring. I find it quite comforting.

However that routine came to a sudden end a few weeks ago when Gaz very suddenly decided to go back to sea. He received a phone call on a Thursday offering him a Chief Engineer's job on a superyacht. A job he has done for many years before he 'retired' several years ago. So one Saturday we were coffeeing and a few days later he was afloat at the other end of the Mediterranean. Now he is 'languishing' in Monaco.  It can be a hard life!

Almost Midnight, Almost Midsummer.

One of the advantages of living in the Outer Hebrides is the very light nights at midsummer. It's 2315 and this is my garden looking out over The Minch to the mainland of Scotland.

I'm taking the opportunity to do this tonight because, knowing Scottish weather it could be pouring with rin in 24 hours time.

Ring O' Bells

Back in my previous incarnation in England and when I was in my early 20s I occasionally pulled ropes and rang church bells. In fact I nearly ended my life as a result when a bellrope came off the bellwheel  and snaked around my neck. Fortunately someone behind me (not ringing a bell) saw it and got the rope away from my neck before it was pulled up again by the weight of the bell. Such occurrences are infrequent but can have dire consequences. "Hung by the Church Bell" does not look good on a church gravestone.   

My wife to be was a proper campanologist.

Next to the church which we attended (and in which we were married) was a hostelry aptly known as The Ring'O Bells.  There in 'Ernie's Snug' we gathered after ringing for a pint or two of best bitter. 

That was over half a century ago. 

The last time I went into the hostelry was a good few years ago and I felt like a complete stranger. The inside of the hotel had been completely gutted and was a beautiful, modern hostelry with plenty of food being served. If I had still lived there I wondered if it was still a 'local' for some old codgers who would pop in for a pint. 

Mind you I can't remember when I last had a 'pint' or any draught beer for that matter. My alcoholic drink of choice for the last 40 + years has been wine.

I must get back to blogging more regularly and try and ressurect some of my old memories too.  

My Garden (30 years ago)

I came to live in Eagleton 31 years ago although I've lived on the Isle of Lewis for half a century. When I came I bought a house 7 miles outside Stornoway and the commute to my job in Stornoway was very quick because the road was good and there was no traffic.

Just over 30 years ago I moved to my current house on the Eye Peninsula just above The Minch (the sea between the Island chain and the mainland of the Scottish Highlands).  The main part of the house was built in 1927 with various alterations made since then enlarging and modernising it. I have been exceptionally happy living here and I hope that I will be able to continue living here until the end comes (which, of course, it inevitably will!).

When I came, the 'garden' (the house stands in just over ¼ acre) was virtually non-existent. The front was like a building site and the back grass area was dominated by four huge pampas grasses. The latter had to be removed with a mechanical digger. The front took years of hard labour with a wheelbarrow, removing rubble and replacing it with lorry loads of topsoil which had to be barrowed manually onto the garden.  

Given that in the early days there was no labour allowed on the Sabbath and I worked full-time, my days were very long. Fortunately in those days I was also very fit. (I'm still fit, thank heaven, but my body has been in use for 80 years and isn't quite as amenable or capable as it used to be).

The garden is pretty much as I want it now but when I was thinking of some alterations a week or two ago I had a sudden realisation that my proposals would take quite a few years to be at their best. So I decided on a more 'immediate' approach to alterations from now on so that I can, hopefully, enjoy them.

I'll show you some current photos in another post.