Well, we’re back in Barnham, and Liv’s gone to Italy. Here, it’s baking hot and we’ll be swimming later.
We went up to Durham by train which was fairly hellish. Wedged into tight bucket seats going backwards with minimal leg room and wonky air conditioning; but at least I got to look at the scenery instead of a road full of careering vehicles. The OPO patio and garden was ablaze with colour; and the vegetable patch made ours look like an unkempt allotment.
Everyone is a bundle of energy op north on account of sleeping on magnetic mattresses. Carla is a case in point. Six months ago, she couldn’t get in and out of Granny’s car without help. She used to wait at the top or bottom of those steps between the two sittings rooms, or the kitchen and the dining room, and bark for help in negotiating them. She had a magnetic pad slipped into her sleeping sack and now she’s a bundle of energy. We took her for a long traipse down the land and she was as full of beans at the end as at the beginning. Crip, meanwhile, has a magnetic jacket, a magnetic chain round his neck, as well as a magnetic mattress; amd he claims he springs out of bed in the mornings, at 6am, with a song on his lips. He also says that no matter what sport he does, however intensively, he never feels so much as a twinge the day after, though he used (in pre magnetic days) to feel wrecked for days. I think I may try sleeping on my magnetic car seat.
The graduation went pretty well. There were speeches by the vice chancellor and a student from way back who was being awarded an honourary degree, during which I believe I may have nodded off; but I was fully awake to watch the gowned and hatted ascending the stage to have their degrees conferred on them. It was a sunny day but windy, and just before arriving in the hall, one poor sap had his morter board swept off his head and into the lake. For an enterprising career, I recommend the gown rental business. The workload seems to extend to a couple of days a year; the equipment must have an almost indefinite lifespan; and the fees charged are exhorbitant. For every thousand students, at £30 a time, that’s 30k.
We drove back for a barbecue at Crip’s. He had what loked like a large rabbit singeing on the flames. It turned out to be a hunk of loin steak. Completely fatless, he cooked it so the inside was not only raw but actually cold to touch; but it was simply delicious. It was hard work eating a sausage afterwards, as it tasted so paltry by comparison.
Then, we shot off on a tour of Stanland properties. Parliament Road is going to be sold and this new industrial enterprise bought as ‘corporate headquarters’. It’s large, with masses of storage space and offices, etc. Also, three flagpoles at the front! Loads of parking and on a landscaped industrial estate. A brave move, if it happens; but psychologically, it might enable Stanland to make the leap from small player to big.
We went to collect Bill to take him down to the land where we spend a happy few hours. Bill was well lubricated and was slow and unsteady on his pegs, but wanted to see everything; so I don’t suppose I’ve ever criss crossed the land so painstakingly. Mama had her small plastic pot with her for wild raspberries; but they weren’t ripe.
The daughter of an old friend of mine came round to play tennis with Liv the day he got back after the Grad Ball, when he was feeling somewhat below par.
And then, home.
Getting some milk at the Trading Post, I secured four overripe french cheeses. Mama had some last night and claims her mouth tastes like a dead rat this morning and that it’s my fault!
I would paste a picture of Liv in his gown and board but my computer has suffered a potentially terminal collapse and I’m using Liv’s and I haven’t figured out how to upload video stills using it, yet.
There’s not been much said about Bali, apart from it’s heat and the availability of DVDs. How are you finding it?
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