Bredonborough Rising to a light
10.09
Bredonborough,
Rising to a light snowfall I…
II...
At the front of the house, in the town, little snow remains other than on roofs.
Morning reading…
… and then a move to the Cellar I…
II...
III...
… for computing and e-flurrying.
12.21 Shopping on the cold High Street for cakes to carry on this afternoon’s tea-visit to Herefordshire.
13.45 Oh no! My spectacles have broken at the bridge. The two lens are no longer joined, and don’t quite make it as double-monocles. Off to the Bredonborough Opticians, en route to Kynaston Lodge, Hentland.
18.12 A visit to Cousin Malcolm, son of Auntie Evelyn, and Wife Barbie, bearing tasty cakes.
Most Summers, when Patricia and myself were little, Mother Edie would bring us up to visit her Sister for a week; so Kynaston has many happy, early memories for me. In the early 1950s this was a very different England to that of today: no electricity, a bucket for main drainage, milk straight from cows, and butter straight from milk. Today, I returned early-photos of the Greene / Harris families leant to me by Auntie Evie many years ago, packed safely during several moves, recently removed from drawers, scanned, and the originals are now returned, as promised to Auntie Evie.
Cousin Malcolm originally had the flower shop in Ross-On-Wye, and part of his training was at Bredonborough Horticultural College, in the early 1960s. Then Barbie and Malcolm began The Welly Shop, then the Dry Boot Company, and have now begun breeding alpacas I…
II...
A wide-ranging career trajectory, then.
A very enjoyable family catching-up after a too-long period in-between.
Returning home to e-flurrying.
19.10 A hot date with my Wife: off to see Sherlock Holmes II at the Bredonborough Arts Centre.
21.56 Lotsa fun, noting this is a film that has nothing at all to do with Sherlock Holmes and rather more with its director; more early C21st. cinema than late C19th. magazine fiction. En passant, in the Cellar are the ten Pall Mall magazines with the first published Sherlock Holmes stories by Conan Doyle.
Gentling time.
