Had one of those rare lying in days, meaning I stayed
around the house for a good portion of the time. Had a pedicure --
self-inflicted. Not half bad. In England, very much as in California, and other
relatively humid kinds of places, you can practically put away the creams and and the potions. They’re hardly necessary (unlike in the desert of Deseret!) –
unless your object is just to smell nice. Your skin is just naturally soft and
supple, even your hands and your feet. Wrinkles on the face are much slower to
develop. It‘s great. I think I rather like it -- prefer it, in fact. Who
wouldn’t?!
Finished reading Call the Midwife today. What a
fascinating read. I have always loved historical content and the subject of
health. This had both, and in spades! Jennifer Worth sure is an imaginative
storyteller. Time to tackle The History of England, Vol 1; but first, some
words of wisdom and choice turns of a phrase from Call the Midwife:
Always expect the
unexpected, and you will never go wrong.
They were “old enough
to know it all, and young enough to blush.”
The musings of a very
old nun to a group of beginning-of-their-career-age young people (with Erin,
Andrew and Ashley in mind): She looked around at us -- so young, so frivolous,
so superficial, and reflected, “Youth is the first fair flower of spring;” and
then spreading out her eloquent hands, joyfully added, “Therefore, . . . sing my darlings, sing, before your
petals fade, to feed the flowers of another spring.”
Life is so fleeting,
and the past so rich.
In reference to
soldiers of the Frist World War: They were young, so very young. A whole
generation of young men died, leaving a whole generation of young women to
weep.
A Holy Fool -- someone who is a fool to the ways of the world, but wise to the ways of God.
(May this be said of me.)
Tis better to travel
hopefully than to arrive.
For all you young parents, and potential parents,
out there, I really appreciated this dad’s effective technique for disciplining
his children: If an argument arose among the younger children, the father would
say good-humouredly, delivered as he would have spoken in his East End Cockney,
“Nah ven, nah ven, le’s ‘ave none of vis” (now then, now then, let’s have none
of this), and that would be that!
Speaking of Cockney, there is an appendix at the
end of Call the Midwife that gives an
incredible discourse on the evocative
and often elusive language known as London Cockney, which she laments is
rapidly falling into disuse, and thus, disappearing as a distinct and clearly
defined dialect. Just wish I’d had access to it when Jeff and Aurora were
preparing for their stint in My Fair Lady. I know they would have treasured the
information it contained.
It was one of those slow, philosophical days. A
good one for making some observations_
TEMP
It continues to be a most unusual summer. (Summer,
hah! Where?) A hundred-year, record-breaking kind of summer, someone remarked.
Regrettable, in fact, what with the summer Olympics planned and all.
It warmed up for a while, but has turned off cool
again the last couple of days. It won’t hit 70 this entire week. You’re
probably saying, “Trade ya!”, but I know that at these temperatures some back
home would be inclined to be turning on their heaters. Okay, I admit, it’s all
a matter of perspective -- and besides, I’m not complaining – just sayin’.
Speaking of which, Sandra keeps our surroundings
nice and tepid, which translates into I often go about chilled a good deal of
the time (but that’s okay because with my lot in life of frequently having to
fight off hot flushes, I’d much rather have that than the alternative!),
especially first thing in the morning for a couple hours, till the world warms
up a little.
Who would’ve expected it of summer? Gotta get some
meat on them bones! (Actually, the truth of the matter is the exact opposite. I
can tell from the way the waist bands of my pants and skirts are fitting that
I’m slowly losing weight -- and that’s not a bad thing! Guess it was a foregone
conclusion seeing as how I walk back and forth from home to town constantly,
several times every day. Plus, I don’t eat on a regular basis because I’m never
around and away from my own kitchen when it does come time to eat. I’d pack a
sandwich or something but I always assume I’ll be back in time to eat, but then
often am not. Nor do I overeat, when I am home. All adds up. And believe me, I’m
not complaining – just sayin’.)
ALTITUDE(?)
Speaking of eating -- or not, I continue to be amazed at how
long produce stays good around here – in or outside the frig. Bananas back home
get over-ripe in a short matter of days; here they seem to go on and on without
getting too brown. Produce in the refrigerator, or out on the counter, lasts
for what seems like forever, without ever spoiling. The same goes with bread.
Maybe it’s the humidity; maybe it’s the altitude. After all, Grimsby is very
close to sea level -- as the seagull flies. (Speaking of which, whenever I exit
the library, the very first sound I hear is the cry of the seagulls. {They can
make the eeriest sounds, ever noticed?!) Kind of gives one the impression they’re
by the seaside or something. But wait – I AM!! Enchanting.)
LIGHT
Speaking of altitude (well, maybe yes, and maybe
no), I have noticed a most curious occurrence in relation to the habits of
light and dark. It first hit me that both dawn and dusk go on and on around
here – seemingly forever! In an evening the sky finally goes completely black sometime
between 10:15 and 10:30pm. On the other side, the morning begins to glow, ever so gradually, as day
begins to sneak back around the unexpected hour of 4am. I continue to be amazed
to see the light peeping through my curtains at such an early hour. Gives added
meaning to the phrase, “the wee hours of the morning”.
That’s not very much dark in any given day. (What direct
effect does that have on the growing cycle and other such phenomenon?) Does it
have any relationship to our closeness to sea level or what? Who’s to say? Something
about being on a small island, in the middle of the big blue sea, I suppose.
The main reason I often go about chilled though
I’m inside is because the windows in the kitchen and the bathroom are always
kept open, no matter how nippy it is. (Always positioned near the top of the grouping
of windows, I know Dad would be very interested in these particular windows and
their unique mode of adjustment, as demonstrated by the attached photo. The
handle, drilled at different intervals, is set into a small vertical post,
depending on the degree to which you wish the window opened. It locks when the
handle is brought horizontal and dropped into several posts at the same time.
Hopefully that makes sense. Quite wonderful and . . . archaic.)
Speaking of which (archaic AND windows), here’s
another interesting window anomaly I came across, also please refer to 2nd
window photo below. I had seen these round plastic disc-looking things on a
front bay window and wondered what the heck they were. There was a cord hanging
from either side. One day as I and a sensible-looking young man were passing by
this particular house, I took the opportunity of asking him if he knew what
they were. Ventilator, he believed, and told me how it worked. (He said he
wasn’t aware people still had these apparatus. Hadn’t seen them around for a
while.) Pull the cord one way, it opens the vents, the other and it closes.
Then it hit me: but how does the air get through the window? Exactly, that was
the thing! You had to cut a circular opening into a perfectly good window to
LET it in. We kind of ruminated over the idea of cutting into the integrity of
a solid pane of glass, as we walked along towards town. He said, I still kind
of prefer the old-fashioned means of cooling off my house, (a less intrusive
way, in fact.) And how’s that? By opening the window. Oh; oh, yeh, good
thinking. (What a clever young man!)
RAIN
Another atmospheric phenomenon unshakably associated
with England can be summed up in the phrase, “to rain or not to rain.” Taking
advance of sunny weather becomes a way of life. Wash up the clothes so they can
be hung up to dry in the sun (Sandra washes a small batch every single day. Has
to do with the high humidity in fabrics and the chance of mildew, I guess), sit
on a beach in the sun (aka Cleethorpes), take a hike through the Wolds along
Viking’s Way near Caistor in the cool, dry air.
The moral of the story is you’d better make the best of blue skies while
they’re around because you just never know when things are gonna change. Kind of similar to life, I guess. Gives added meaning to the phrase, “to
make hay while the sun shines.”
Speaking of which I am learning (the hard way) to always take a
jacket with me whenever I go out. Because, at a moment’s notice, the weather
can – and usually does – change (whether it be of the temperature or
precipitation variety) – a Murphy’s Law kind of thing (also a law of nature,
you realize, of course).
The last observation is a confession I have to make: it is, that
due to all this atmospheric stuff, I go about a good deal of the time pretty
much looking like a frizz head. (Andrew, good thing I have long hair or you
could justifiably accuse me of being a bona fide “Qtip”!!)
Photos_
1- Olympic Google doodle
2- seagulls by the sea
3- window casement @ 43 Bargate
4- ventilated window
5- clothes on the line, looking towards the house
1- Olympic Google doodle
2- seagulls by the sea
3- window casement @ 43 Bargate
4- ventilated window
5- clothes on the line, looking towards the house
6- me in Grimsby By the Sea
