Been a quiet but fairly productive day in the workshop. Sandwich lunch, followed by a quick zizz (nap Lori). Then in car to pick up a linen jacket I've had to have cleaned (picked some blackberries and as a result one or two ripe ones fell on me, from higher in the bramble bush, and stained my old linen jacket - still, Fiona, our cleaner, has made a perfect job of it). Then on to garden centre to buy a bunch of bronze chrysanths (they smell of autumn, those things) for Terry this evening. Just before seven drove over to friend Terry's home, where I'd been invited to supper. Drank apple juice (as I'd be driving home). Supper was a very pleasant quiche- sort of egg flan, with various salady thing as accompaniment. This was followed by pears stewed in red wine and spiced with a little vanilla and cinnamon . After this very pleasant light supper I was given a copy of the Times, banished to the sitting room, and asked to try and break into the crossword, while Terry made coffee (I must say that Terry made a better job of the coffee than I did of the crossword). Quiet half hour or so of very civilised conversation- well, all bar the part when Terry told me about an ancestor of her's who was burned at the stake in Crackow in the sixteenth century!
I must say that whenever Ann's away doing her Grannyish duties there's always a friend or so in our area who makes sure that I don't become completely uncivilised due to lack of proper hot meals and feminine company. And God bless them, say I; I'm very grateful.
And talking of blessings and being grateful for them, Ann 'phoned just before I set out to tell me that, whilst the medicos were doing the exploratory op on young Georgie, they spotted the problem and put it to rights. Sorry I can't be more specific, but you must remember that I am the sort of clean minded Englishman who really doesn't WANT to know the details of other peoples' (or me own, provided they continue to work) private insides, even those of my grandchildren. But I'm very glad and thankful that all's well now.
On which cheerful note I wish you all a very good and restful night's sleep.
P.s. Should have said (but you've probably worked it out) that snapshot is, once again, of a corner of our garden.
P.p.s. Mem : must write Terry a 'bread and butter' letter ack emma.
P.p.p.s. Perhaps, as Terry reads this blog (and what better proof of friendship could she give that regularly reading this tosh?), this blog could count as a 'bread and butter letter', so I needn't write (????)
P.p.p.p.s. (think I'm losing count). Rubbish, taradiddle, Of course I must. Where's me pen?
11 comments:
The English have a very clever knack of providing their gardens with a few more assorted corners than Euclidean geometry would anticipate.
Ps I believe one of our distant quaker kin was burned at the stake for unrecanted heresy, from up Yorkshire way, 3 or 4 centuries since. I'll look it up so you can regale Terry with the gruesome bits on a return visit. The little cogs are hinting it might have been across the Pond in the colonies - although I thought they went to the colonies for religious freedom!
Pootatu is being uncommonly thoughtful
Her v-word is 'urest'
I think I'll take her advice. Night-Night.
Here's the colonial persecution I had half remembered. Lydia Wright was born in 1655 at Oyster Bay, Long Island, New York. She was the daughter of Sergt. Peter Wright Sr. and Alice Way.1 Lydia Wright witnessed the will of Anthony Wright on 20 May 1673 at Oyster Bay, Long Island, New York.2 Lydia Wright followed Margaret Brewster into South Church, protesting the requirement about taking an oath of fidelity to the Government, for the Quakers prohibited such swearing, on 8 July 1677 at Boston, Massachusetts.3 She was committed to prison for her protest on 9 July 1677 at Boston, Massachusetts.3 She was tried and prosecuted, with three other women, for her Quaker beliefs by the New England Court on 4 August 1677 at Boston, Massachusetts. Her concluding words were "I believe thou speakest truth, for if you worshipped that God which we worship, you would not persecute his people, for we worship the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and the same God that Daniel worshipped.'' The clerk read their sentence as follows:
"Margaret Brewster, you are to have your clothes stript off to the middle, and to be tied to a cart's-tail at the South meeting-house, and to be drawn through the town, and to receive twenty stripes upon your naked body."
"Lydia Wright and Mary Miles, you are to be tied to the cart's-tail also. Barbara Bowers you are to be tied also."3,4,5 She married Isaac Horner of Northampton, son of Bartholomew Horner Sr. and Bridget (?), on 17 March 1683/84 at the Meeting House, Oyster Bay, Long Island
She married Isaac Horner of Northampton, son of Bartholomew Horner Sr. and Bridget (?), on 17 March 1683/84 at the Meeting House, Oyster Bay, Long Island
Here's the case I was trying to recall, very distant relative through the Lincolnshire Kymes and Yorkshire Askew/Ayscoughs:-
Husband: Mr Kyme b.1517 South Kelsey, Lincs. Roman Catholic.
Wife: Anne Askew b.1521 South Kelsey, Lincs. Protestant Anabaptist.Compelled to this marriage by her father.
d. 26/7/1546 burned at the stake at Smithfield, London after being racked and tortured in the Tower – refused to recant.
Children: 1. William Askew b.1543 Lincs. died in infancy
2. William Askew b.1545 South Kelsey, Lincs.
Pootatu is giving advice 'ricaut'
could she mean 'recant'?
The first time I went on holiday without him, I returned to discover that the Sage had held a succession of supper parties. He provided the main course and drinks and friends came bearing pudding. I suspect he simply cooked steak and baked potatoes each time, but he does that extremely well
Hi Crowbard. Thank you for the information. I think our American colonists did pay lip service to religious freedom; many of them were Puritans and they didn't go much for Quakers because the quakers were pacifists, and could not be got to defend the right; which wasn't much use to anyone when the redskins were chucking their weight about. I'm probably oversimplifying this bit of history, but I think that was the reasoning behind the Puritan attitude to Quakers.
Mike,
I get the zizz...what's taradiddle?
When are you and Ann coming here for dinner?
Taradiddle has two meanings, Lori. Originally it could mean a fib or an entertaining lie. The more usual meaning is to indicate that a thing is tosh, bosh, rubbish or nonsense, which is what I mean here :- that I mustn't talk rubbish!
P.s. Wish we could Lori. But thanks for the thought.
Hello Z. Sensible man your husband. Please give him my regards.
No - IMO you mustn't let the side down - bread and butter letters are our way of clinging on to that old hat habit of good manners.
You are quite right Pat, and I did in fact post the bread and buutter letter on Friday morning.
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