Look vicar … dry pants this time!
Ray took me to Cirencester in time for lunch. I was swept inside by Rosemary, while Philip tried to convince Ray to stay for lunch, but with Maggie 🐕 waiting for him at home, Ray drove straight back - an almost 3 hour round trip … but evidently Maggie was pleased to see him on his return. The previous day, I took this photo of her, whilst awaiting Ray’s return from putting petrol on the car in preparation for today’s trip - upstairs and looking straight down the cul-de-sac, leaving her time to innocently be waiting at the front door when he came in.
So in the afternoon we three walked into the village to see an exhibition … which we then found out is being held NEXT weekend. But it was lovely re-acquainting myself with the very pretty shopping area and finishing up in an also familiar coffee shop for a cuppa.
While we were out, Rosemary posted a letter to her sister in NZ and was shocked to learn that a recent postal rate rise meant that a very normal airmail envelope now costs £3.80 (almost $8.00 in real money, I guess). That’s enough to put anyone off writing letters, I’d have thought - so don’t expect any postcards over the next 3 months … it’s much cheaper answering texts and writing blogs.
As I write this, it is Saturday and we have just returned from a lovely trip to Down Ampney where we attended an organ recital by the “new” organist and choir master in Cirencester, Thomas Hawkes. We arrived just as he began the recital so until the end, an hour later, I had assumed that he was an older man of great musical ability. When he emerged to a healthy ovation, I was very surprised to see he was (probably) 38ish and, though born in Germany, spoke with an English accent. Cirencester is indeed fortunate to have him.
That was the forerunner to an Open Garden, right next door, in the Down Ampney house grounds … and the proceeds from both activities are going towards the Church Path appeal. We had a very nice stroll around the extensive grounds, ending with a cuppa and cake in the Conservatory.
It’s been an overcast, and occasionally drizzly sort of day, but quite mild, temperature wise.
And so we returned to Cirencester and I again attacked the spiral staircase leading to my bedroom on the second floor. 20 steps in all, deeper than normal I’d say. The bedroom is lovely, with a sloping ceiling - but I’ve already hit my head on it at least 8 times. (Slow learner)
Insert here, in your imagination, an impressive photograph of the staircase - and be amazed by the fact that Philip, after a hip replacement, continued climbing them immediately on his return from hospital. I shall attempt to add a photograph but just because I managed once (above) you shouldn’t be surprised if one doesn’t appear.
