Pete
the Plumber called a few days ago to fix an outside tap. He's been with us for
yonks and told me he was about to retire, but might still do a few jobs to keep
his hand in. Quite unexpectedly, and through nothing I said, he started talking
about Cherry, saying what a nice lady she was and how amazing it is to realise
that it's getting on for five years since she died. Obviously, as our wedding
anniversary approached, I've been thinking about that a bit more than normal
too. Coincidentally one of Canadian protégées wrote to me about a sea-related
issue. He asked about Cherry and was
plainly shocked by the news. He sent a lovely
reply, I thought: "I am so
sorry, I hadn’t realised that Cherie had died. Both my wife and I
remember her very fondly from the few times we met in Singapore and that
serendipitous meeting in Cambodia on the side of a temple as we watched the sun
set with our kids. I was so touched by the friendliness she offered us
and in hosting me at your cottage in 2007. What a great time it was. I was
happy to have a bed and a ride into the college, but a guided tour of the
Avebury area and a night out in Salisbury as well was above and beyond. I
regret I never got Cherry a dragon for her collection. My deepest condolences." He's obviously got a much better memory
than me but it was a nice reminder of the fact that I have a lot to be thankful
for. For the fifth anniversary, I am sponsoring a 'weathering stone' with her
initials that will be put on the East End of Salisbury Cathedral. It'll be
there for 800 years they say.
All
that is also something to balance against the grim news and forecasts we are
being bombarded with at the moment. Although the garden now looks parched and
brown instead of an overgrown Borneo, I've survived the drought quite well so
far, despite the inevitable failures and losses. An now, extremely sensitive to
the prospect of the annexe flooding for a fifth time, given the warnings about
flash-flooding, I've cleared the drainage ditches. I've never really got over
watching the water coming down from the hills behind, across the field and into the back of the garden,
while not being able to do anything to stop it ! On the other side of the
ledger, my well has done sterling service and still has an unbroken record of
never drying up. Excellent as a means of restocking water-butts and filling up
the ponds without breaking the bank. With this prospect in mind, I have also
been cutting back on electricity use, and making plans for the coming energy
hike, to which I am especially vulnerable. Of course the 3-4 year store of wood
I've now accumulated will help. However I had to get Danny the electrician in
to restore power to the outhouses, evidence that the power system in the house isn't
as good as it should be. He did a quick survey with a plan for a much longer
-and more expensive !- one later. But there and then he insisted on either
replacing or disabling the 4 exterior lights. They're halogen he said: they get
hot and are much too close (inches not metres) to the thatch. He told a horrid story about the thatched
house with just such a problem next to the pub in Bishop's Cannings. 'What thatched house ?' I said. That of course was his point.
The
detritus of the tree clearing has been moved away and put ready for a bonfire
(hard to guess when that will be safe enough) and converted into three huge
animal and bug residences in the wooded area. Since then, academic activity has
taken a decidedly back seat in my priorities, and I have been engaged in an apparently
endless round of domestic preparation for hard times ahead.
But
that hasn't stopped some fun times too. A self-indulgent day in Salisbury,
picking up Aunt Ethel's art deco clock, getting a new cam belt put in the car, cappuccino in Caffe Nero, the Hardy exhibition in the Museum, tea the Antelope and
a browse round the Antique Centre where I bought an 1809 naval book which I
found I already have ! (Still, an enjoyable chat with the old bookseller
-probably younger than me- about the repair of leather-bound books) Etc, etc
The following week a very nice lunch and catch-up with Pat and James in their charming house in which we very deliberately did not talk about our ailments ! And then a mini-Summer holiday with Graham and Lo in Devon, during which we managed to stagger slowly round the gardens at Forde Abbey and explored Montacute House. In neither case were there vast crowds and in fact we practically had Forde abbey to ourselves - it was quite eerie really.
On our return I still had enough energy left to go and look at Hawkchurch's church. It's famous for its carvings, not least this weird capital carving. A man linked to marine dragons, crocodiles ? What on earth was the sculptor taking at the time ? Disappointingly, the teddy bear parachute display from the tower was the following week.
The only sadness at Montacute House was that the famous third-floor long gallery was closed, as it was too hot for the guides to be able to stick it out for any length of time ! They had a lovely library but I felt a certain malicious satisfaction in noting that their copy of Pitt's speeches was incomplete, while I have complete set.
Not in such good order admittedly. We liked the charming summer houses too. They had a display of samplers. These days, sadly, the quite touching 1785 one rather invites a cynical 'yeah, right !'- guess who was doing what she was told.
g