My grandmother and I with the chickens in Yorkshire
Whatever else is happening
in my family, working or sporting life, it seems that I can always rely on my
swimming holding steady. Nothing seems to affect that very much at all. If I
have been running more that usual I may be a little more tired or maybe my legs
might ache a little to show that I have worked them. Riding my bike a bit more
will result in my hands aching more than they do normally, even though I do
wear neoprene wrist supports to prevent too much stress in that department
after a number of falls both running and riding out, that have damaged my hands
over the years, and then our old friend Arthritis has kicked in to make me
constantly aware that I should take care. All three disciplines being worked
on, may case a bit of lower back ache for which I do some stretching, take spells
in a hot tub, listening to an audio book or the radio. Not to mention submitting
myself to some eye wateringly painful sports massage.
This morning I hit what I
think I will call a wobbly moment whilst swimming a fairly ordinary, not to
fearsome a swim set. Things just pile up in your head from time to time and
having stopped mid swim in the centre of the pool did cause a few people to at
least ask if I was ok. Thanks Clive, for your consideration in telling me that
all I needed was a cuddle. That did make me laugh and feel much better strange
to relate.
Maybe I am simply not
looking forward to the funeral this coming Tuesday of my mother’s youngest
sister Betty. Bet is the bridesmaid in the photo here taken at Auntie Glad and Uncle Georges wedding. It could just be hitting the end of an era kind of feeling, added
to all the bad news on TV in the past few days.
Of course the other area
that contributes to general discomfort is life in general and all any of us can
do is just try to cope as best we can with whatever irritation life throws at
us and as we have all been saying of late simply keep calm and carry on. For my
own well being and peace of mind I find that age old slogan from the war times
in the last century, is the best
route. This is one part of my nature where I differ dramatically from the
example set for me by my own mother, who at a click of the fingers, would go to
verbal war with whoever had crossed her with a thoughtless comment. She would
not be able to settle until she had had it out with the person that she thought
had spoken out of turn, either to her face or behind her back.
She had had a fairly hard
life having lost her father in World War I and having survived childhood with
her widowed mother bringing up three daughters as best she could; life never
seemed to get any easier. A step father and three more younger sisters, saw her
and her elder sister put into service as soon as they were old enough, to help
both with family costs and accommodation difficulties.
Life became happier for a
while when she met my lovely dad and married and started their own little family
beginning with my brother Peter. All was
much better for them until just after I arrived six years later, just in time
for the start of World War II. My dad was called up and suddenly left alone
with two children, my mother, who thought that Hitler was more than likely to
cross the channel and bring the war to our beaches packed up and moved up to
Yorkshire to my dads family where she thought we would be more safe.
Of course the joke amongst truck
drivers years ago was that the only reason Hitler did not invade England was that he realised that he would never
get through customs at Dover.
I can tell you that Steve and I have spent days on end in the import compound
there so there may have been some truth in that then.
I saw a poster recently that
pointed out that to fire an arrow it must first be drawn back under tension before
that explosive release that might propel you forward to something or somewhere
better or to the desired target.
The photo here was taken at about
my tenth birthday party. We were poor but I always had a birthday party,
nothing fancy, just paste sandwiches and home made cake. Compare that to the
lavish celebrations children have today; it seems that every Saturday somebody
has hired the small pool and the disco at the swimming pool for a vast amount
of children.
The bunch of urchins in the
photograph here, are mostly my cousins plus two from my dancing class. That is
trouble personified in the form of my cousin John standing in front of outside
toilet door next to me. He gave me two ounces of Pear Drops, which was the best
present that year. The boy with the glasses and girl in front doing a plié were
my best friends Mary and Billy Thurley who were twins and lived near by. Their mum
made awesome bread pudding.
