Hostelry in our High Street. Said to be a good 'un.
Been a busy weekend. Yesterday we motored over to Wisbech to see Gran. Had lunch with Gran in her flat. She said she really didn't feel up to eating out. Bit worrying as she normally thoroughly enjoys going out for a meal. She seemed cheerful enough though, and enjoyed our visit. Her mind is very sharp, and she has a very good long term memory (especially for poetry - which she loves). We left about 4p.m. and motored to Littleport, calling in on Ann's eldest brother, Mick. He was widowed last May, and enjoys company, although he says he doesn't want to go out for it. Generally speaking though, he's coping very well with his bereavement. Left him at about 7p.m. and got home well before 9p.m.
Today, at 10.30 a.m., we held our Harvest Festival Service. Sang all the usual harvest hymns. Good service, followed by a shared lunch, to which Ann could not stay, as she was taking our friend Terry to lunch with the Suffolk Poetry Society. The shared lunch to which I stayed was excellent. Helped with the washing up afterwards, then was invited to a game of scrabble at Hilary's. Hilary got a seven letter word, and eventually got out first, and won by about six points (we both had just over three hundred) so a very close, well fought game. Then walked home, nicely in time to get tea ready for Ann and Terry when they returned. Terry's poem 'The Road to Sevagram' had won a commendation, which I should have been very proud of, but Terry seemed rather disappointed. Ann had bought home a catalogue of the afternoon's poems and some of them seemed very peculiar. One in particular looked as if the 'poet' had loaded a blunderbuss with unassociated words and then fired it at the page. I know it's quaintly old fashioned, but I do like poetry to rhyme and scan. Sorry, Terry (I know you sometimes read my blog).
I occasionally jot down verses meself (not poetry and usually about the grandchildren) :-
Freja when Three and Dressing Herself.
____________________________
Miss Tuppenny Strawberry Horner- Larsson
sometimes forgets all her buttons to fasten.
Such messes just stresses
how decidedly lopsidedly she dresses.
Well, I warned you it wasn't poetry, but it's about my mark.
Goodnight all.
7 comments:
Mike...isn't singing the best? We just love being in a chorus.
Hi Lori and Gary. Yes, I've always found singing in a choir very satisfying.
Regards, Mike.
Now that looks like my kinda pub.
Sadly can't sing. Tone deaf you know. Probably would have done allright in a punk band?...;-)
Who ate the grapes Mike? I must say I too would have been tempted the fruit looks good enough for any serpent to use!
Hi, 4D. I was in a skiffle group in the late fifties. Only a village do, but we had fun. Never tried punk, I'm afraid.
Hi Tim, well I was arranging the fruit artistically, therefore had to do a quality control check, and the grapes were easiest. Or, to put it another way :- Mea Culpa.
Cheers, Mike.
In the case of grapes Mike, shouldn't it be MEA GULPA?
Good one, Crowbard, although I think in the case of grapes the French do a 'nos pulpa' on them, and turn them into wine.
Cheers, Mike.
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