September 11

April 1985

A date for reflections of all kinds. For a lot of people it will be memories of nine eleven. Here in England that memory is I suppose slightly eclipsed by the death of Queen Elizabeth and the excitement of having a King Or a man queen as I read somewhere. Yet for me the memories that hurtle through my brain are somewhat different.

. 16 years ago my mother died. This photo was taken at my best friend’s wedding. She sent it to me this morning and I cried. I haven’t done that for a long time but today it all came to a head. The Queen, my mother, my mother in law, my Father, my stepfather – the list goes on. My flag should be constantly at half mast- yet thankfully it isn’t.

Emotionally today I am at one with the spirit of the nation – not everyone is a monarchist but neither are we all revolutionary republicans. It’s all very strange.

Those of you who have read me before know about my mother’s extraordinary sitting for the Queen’s Coronation portrait by Arthur Pan. It was strange how she was so alike she never capitalised on it afterwards unlike the woman who has had to put her regal wardrobe away. (Mary Reynolds)And I have to admit than whenever I saw the Queen on tv, especially since my own mama died, the word Mummy always sprung to mind and I felt warm inside. Silly, I know. But it is wot it is (to use my most modern expression! )

But today is also St Hyacinthus’s day, or Saint Jacek as he is known in Polish. Patron saint of Pierogi, as far as I can work out! My husband’s namesday. So, happy namesday to all you Jaceks out there.

We have spent the day pleasantly in our cottage, celebrating the wonders of nature.

This year’s acorns. The first and only two.
Apples in the local orchard
Russian Sage
Creeping wisteria

And watching the local gravity Grand Prix. Lots of handmade cars hurtling down the street just outside our cottage. The best one was designed by some primary school children and built by their parents.

This is the link if you’re interested. https://www.instagram.com/p/CiXuMDwoDVvHrCzX_yG5JFIjSudLlfU32Q6JfU0/?igshid=MDJmNzVkMjY=

Should I be making a bucket list now that it is less than a year to my seventieth? Any ideas? What should I write about?

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