Friday, September 30
Thursday, September 29
There once was a maid in a jersey,
Who constantly wanted to curtsey.
She tried on the grass
but she fell on her “ knees”
In the mud at the side of the Mersey.
(Lovely weather again...down at the Ferry).
This is for The Purple Treehouse poetry blog.
Wednesday, September 28
I sat down the back field in a deck chair and closed my eyes and was taken back in my memories to the wonderful September holidays that I spent with the potter in Cereste, Provence, France.
The soft warmth combined with the crackle of autumn leaves made me imagine that I could be sitting in the garden of Madame Mitrani's Medieval Tower in Cereste, and snoozing in the afternoon heat.
Céreste is a Roman-era village in the Northern Luberon between Apt and Manosque. There are terrace cafés, a Medieval old village and lovely surroundings.
Tuesday, September 27
There once was a little girl who loved to have holidays by the sea.
So every summer she went with her mother, father and little sister to her grandparents' big old house up by the bay.
Her grandmother had decorated the bedrooms with lots of seasidey cushions, and the wallpaper behind the bed heads had boats sailing along in a blue sea with fluffy white clouds on a blue sky.
It's easy to dream in a bed like that and sometimes when you are very little it's hard to remember that if you pick the paper it will tear.
Oops! that's what happened!
She didn't mean it to happen....but somehow it just did.
She was so sorry, and to let her grandmother know how sorry she was, she bought her a lovely bunch of pinky-red carnations.
The grandmother remembered what she had done herself as a little girl. How she had drawn super "pussy-cats" all the way up the stairs on every step untill she reached the top. And then got into serious trouble with her mum, because the wall had to be repainted!
Well the carnations were beautiful and you know some flowers will grow again even when they have been cut off from the plant.
So grandmother popped two or three stems into the soil in the flower garden.
And after a couple of years....lo and behold.... two beautiful flowers appeared on the plant.
By the way this story is true because I know that little girl!
Monday, September 26
Saturday was the last of the Prom Art Shows held in Grange-over-Sands.
I was feeling lousy!
I had done my back in and I just didn't want to know anybody or anything!
So as standing and walking was less painful than sitting...I upped sticks and went off on a long walk.
West along the north edge of the Bay where it meets the River Kent.
Past salt marshes where sheep were grazing.
Past the railway line that takes you from Carnforth up into the Lakes.
Through green tunnels.
Past ancient north country walls, sprouting greenery never to be seen in the city.
I spied an old farmhouse and took a pic. Smoke poured out of the ancient chimneys and the white walls shone in the autumn sun.
Under the railway bridge the path took me right along side of this house.
Outside the gate a stand held copies of the book...
....Cedric Robinson...The Queen's Guide for Morecambe Bay.
I might buy a copy I thought and walked on.
Then changed my mind and went back to have another look....
...and there was the man himself.
Most of us in this country know about the dangers of Morecambe Bay.
The tides go out and leave 100 sq. miles of sand uncovered.
But as the tide turns it speeds in at about 30 miles an hour...faster than a man can run.
Also the sand is sinking sand. If you linger too long you may be trapped and unable to extricate your feet from the sucking down terror.
Recently the worst tragedy was the Chinese cocklers who perished when they were caught in the dark by the flood tide.
A guide is needed to weave a path through the sands and people regularly are taken out by the guides across the Bay.
Cedric very kindly allowed me to take a photo. Then in my excitement...I forgot to buy the book!
I shall. I'll leave it on the coffee table up at the house on the Bay.
I haven't walked the Bay myself yet.
One day ...I hope!