I wonder how many of you ladies out there will recognise this early morning exchange “Good Morning darling, here is your tea” to which the reply is “Do stop attacking me”. No prizes for getting the gender of the responder!!!! Best thing is not to speak at all really, but then you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t. So the best thing is to talk to yourself, I do that now and I find it most agreeable. I also reply to myself with compliments and helpful suggestions , I can also get angry and start hurling names at myself; the sainted one overheard one of these rants and took great offence and sulked for a while. Well there it is, he is very good at grocery shopping at the moment and has accumulated a group of helpful beauties in Sainsbury’s who accompany him and fill the trolley for him, he can be very charming …..?????
The good news is that owing to circumstances here we have had the most astonishing help from all sources, It makes me very emotional to think of the ubiquitous cocoon of love and support we have received, I am humbled by it and hope I have invested enough in my life to merit such a response to us all. Our local Church has bound together a network and altogether I think we live in a marvellous country. A great percentage of the dedication I have seen is given by people who were not born here and now contribute something so valuable , who so ever worries about immigration and such things should look more closely, at the demography of our country.
I got back into my book for two hours before yet another tidal wave approached, today I have opened the door again thanks to more smiley faces . But the brain is a strange organ, I have to banish all thoughts of a domestic nature and transport myself to 1740, it is cold about to snow again and the world outside Whitehall Palace has become silent, even the sound of carriage wheels is muffled, but the cries of a little page boy echo loud and clearly into the ritualistic dance macabre over which the King presides.