Dog days

Hottest Day Of The Year So Far, and boys have all-day sports tournament at school; stern warnings about perils of over-exertion duly ignored as they set off in more than usually potent clouds of Lynx.

Take dog for early walk through hazy countryside, admiring butterflies and doing best not to notice already harvested fields and blackberries appearing in hedgerows – though am not entirely clear why own increasing sense of Time Slipping Away always seems so much more intense in summer.

Am getting vicariously excited about daughter’s approaching festival trip; have sorted out tickets, travel and tent, so she can devote day to much more challenging task of deciding What To Wear.

 

Thought for the morrow

Daughter is going on first solo trip to London tomorrow; am quite sure that she will cope perfectly well, but nonetheless find myself going repeatedly through itinerary, contacts and contingency plans as though briefing her for particularly dangerous undercover mission.

Have recently become Deputy Verger so am invited to evening wedding rehearsal in order to Learn The Ropes. Arrive early but find church already full of over-excited children and slightly anxious adults, all apparently from London; do best to Make Them Feel At Home and discuss church (lovely), village (lovely) and weather (currently foul but Definitely Better Tomorrow).  One tiny bridesmaid tells me proudly that she is Hyper and swiftly finds herself seated in corner with paper, pen and instructions to draw pictures of entire wedding party.

Rehearsal goes well, everyone eventually disperses, and Verger and I are just about to go home when The Musicians (also from London) arrive and ask if they can just have A Quick Run-Through. Verger replies that she has been there two hours and Has Not Yet Had Her Tea, and that Tom is about to have his organ lesson and then it will be Choir Practice; but eventually softens under singer’s relentless charm offensive, and we all enjoy five minutes of songs from Oklahoma while rain falls steadily outside.

 

 

Good sport

Have agreed to start forthcoming school holidays with Family Camping Trip.   Am aware that previous such trips have not always revealed finest aspects of self, but this year resolve to Throw Myself Into It, and spend some time in obsessive internet search for The Perfect Campsite. Find one which is a) not in a field b) available and c) criticised on TripAdvisor only for over-zealous enforcement of Noise Policy, and book it immediately.

Seem to spend rest of day in e-mail exchanges about Cricket Fun Day and Late Summer Horticultural Show; latter clashes with Football Fun Day, so am fortunately (for all concerned) excused participation in Parents’ 6-A-Side Tournament.

Evening, as usual, dominated by World Cup.

 

 

 

 

Idle thoughts of an idle mother

Weather still hot and sunny. Husband has taken daughter off for post-GCSE tour of England and relations, so am in sole charge of dog, tortoise and sons. End of term still some time away, but sons’ school days now seem to consist almost entirely of various sporting events, and even I have stopped worrying about homework.

Decide (for various reasons – some possibly honourable) that do not want to take part in new initiative at village nursery and steel myself to tell  kindly couple who are organising it; feel that this would be ideal occasion for cowardly and self-justifying e-mail or text, but couple even less technologically advanced than me, so have to make Old School telephone call. At least they do have an answerphone.

Vaguely consider various projects around house but manage to convince myself that it is a) not worth starting anything new before the summer holidays, and b) my duty to make the most of the weather before it Breaks. Spend happy afternoon communing with dog and tortoise in garden.

 

Social whirl

Off to college reunion dinner on Thursday. Am seated next to visiting American Professor of Classics; discuss sexuality in the ancient world (briefly) and cooking (in great depth). Meet various people from my Past, most of whom seem to look exactly the same as they did thirty years ago; eat, drink and talk far too much.

Am not perhaps At My Sparkling Best for Cricket Club Quiz Night back home on Friday night, but hastily-assembled team manage a respectable score – helped by excellent performance on Mr Men round.

Saturday brings a 70th birthday party and perfect English afternoon of marquees, bunting, salmon and Eton Mess. Feel full of general bonhomie and may quite possibly have agreed to help out with some new initiative at village nursery.

Quiet day today.

 

 

E for Effort

Am taking part in a book blogger’s Meme. Still not entirely sure what a Meme is (find Wikipedia entry on subject quite baffling and normally reliable children not much better), but feel should Try Something New  – and this particular exercise looks reassuringly like Victorian parlour game; participants have to list favourite book, author, song, film and object beginning with randomly assigned letter.  Decide that this will be ideal way of Using My Brain while doing Monday housework.

Am assigned E. Start off very confidently:

Favourite Book - Emma by Jane Austen. One of my very favourite books anyway, funny, warm and wise, with excellent cast of characters, including quite awful Mrs Elton and quite lovely Mr Knightley.

Favourite Author – E. Nesbit, E.M. Delafield and E.M. Forster all favourites, but suspect disallowed under Meme Rules so go for George Eliot. (Would undoubtedly have chosen Middlemarch as favourite novel if assigned M.)

Cannot then think of any song, film or object whatsoever beginning with E, but after some hoovering and laundry come up with:

Favourite SongEverybody’s Talkin’ , in version by Harry Nilsson; wistful, memorable and slightly unsettling.

Favourite Film -  am probably not allowed Emma again, though do like 1996 version with Gwyneth Paltrow and Jeremy Northam; so choose E.T.

Favourite Object – find this the hardest one of all. Have certain fondness for eggcups and espresso cups, but finally settle on Envelopes; always, still, hope that post will bring Something Exciting (unspecified).

 

 

 

 

Schoolboys

Elder son’s school friend has part in village production of Journey’s End, so we go off together to Village Hall to watch final performance.  Son confides that friend popular with all the teachers because he does drama; discussion of son’s own popularity with teachers cut short, perhaps luckily, by Curtain Up.  Find play almost unbearably poignant;  friend plays keen young officer, very well, and am soon in predictable floods of tears.

Recognise younger son’s English teacher in audience, and introduce myself to him during interval. He looks at me, pauses, and remarks that son is very keen on cricket.

Cry even more in Acts 2 and 3, and am glad of lengthy ovation for chance to wipe smudged mascara before lights come back on.  Son also moved (though in rather more dignified fashion than me).  Walk home through the warm summer night and catch up on all the latest World Cup news.

 

 

Only making plans

Unusually sedentary day trying to Get Organised. Finally manage to deliver promised article on Horticultural Association for Parish News; am instructed to make it Long as other contributions for July edition apparently rather sparse.  Try rather boldly to suggest that horticultural shows are now the very height of  hipness (even appearing at the Port Eliot Festival), though have to admit that own Village Hall bears little resemblance to the ideas of some festival organisers.

Talk of festivals reminds me to nag daughter about Plans For The Summer; feel that it should be packed with Fun and Excitement and New Experiences. (Celebrated end of own O-levels with residential course in Ancient Greek at Cheltenham, but do not dwell on this.)  Eventually manage to agree plan for trip to festival with only the minimum amount of camping required to make it Authentic Festival Experience, and allow daughter to return for time being to laptop.

Town mouse and country mouse

Off to London for retirement party of former colleague. Perhaps in unconscious homage to past commuter life, find self dozing off in warm train, but am roused by hearing one man tell friend about promise to reward daughter for GCSE success, with £100 for every A*, £75 for every A and £50 for every B, making predicted total of over £700.  See no reason to relay this conversation to own daughter.

In further echo of past, journey delayed by Signalling Problems In London Area, but eventually arrive and make way along South Bank thronged with Friday evening crowds. London looking particularly appealing, and feel very happy to be amongst old friends drinking beer by the river; but general consensus that office life is Not Like It Used To Be, and  that I am Very Lucky to spend my days gardening and walking the dog instead. Make half-hearted attempt to suggest there is a little bit more to my life than that, but soon give up and agree, truthfully, that am Very Lucky Indeed.

Improvement

Second session helping at pensioners’ lunch in Village Hall; have now become permanent member of Chicken Casserole and Bread-and-Butter Pudding Team, though suspect will continue to be treated  as The New Girl for several more years.

Make last effort to finish Bring Up the Bodies before returning it to library. Do not sadly share friend’s opinion of its brilliance, but it does bring back happy memories of daughter dressed up as Jane Seymour when Doing The Tudors in primary school.

Life beginning to feel very summery; countryside like a Monet landscape, garden in full bloom, constant cricket chatter in background, and first raspberries appearing. And only two more days of GCSEs.