Kate's Half Century

I dreamt last night of my little Katie girl. Awoke in the small hours thinking of the loneliness she must of felt those last few weeks.
And on this special day I shed a tear for each of her fifty years. Most of them for the joy of knowing her.

Relentless time

This time stuff. Tricky fluid. Some moments moving too quickly when life is desperately late; the next moment dragging treacle slow, waiting for the world to catch up. But always, relentlessly, moving in one direction.

No amount of looking into the past changes the future. And gazing hopefully into the future is only second guessing what's around the corner. Each day that brings happiness justifying that hope.

Fires gone out. Feet chilled, warm head with a beanie hat pulled down over my muffled ears. Warming my thoughts.

On Wednesday, Kate would have been 50. Five-oh. A landmark amount of time beneath her little feet. Alice remembered to remind me, but - despite my frankly dire ability with a calendar - it's a date that's burnt into my mind. I feel for myself, and the kids, that I need to celebrate. However hollow that may seem.

And I have some very understanding friends who can cope with my feelings. Having to share me with a memory. Thanks to all and one.

Pleasure and pain

Been playing Delores since Thursday night. Well. Almost. Third Thursday session at Tibenham Greyhound. Good fun friends. Her name is Rio and she dances - bluegrass style.

Long, soon over, night of gambling at a friend of Jen's to raise money for Children in Need on Friday. Roulette, blackjack, Escelado - wind those horses! - and countless rounds of "Chase the Ace" on a board borrowed from Shelfanger Fete.

Sharp frosty early morning carting chilled steel rusty scrap for a handful of sheckles before slapping some skiffle with Kiwi Pete on Saturday night, John banjo-ing, fingers sweating, blisters forming, Jenny driving and suffering to stay awake...

Home to a dead sleep bed, up seconds later, and back to Norwich with a bus full of kids. Shopping in the penny and pound cheapskate heaven of Anglia Square. Greasy spoon lunch for seven.
Running across town to a second session of skiffle at the Shed. Blisters wrapped in gaffa tape to numb the pain. Aspall cider and a bowl of olives, jalepenos, and cheese certainly helped too!

Feeling burnt out and beautiful...

Kicking through leaves

Cooked quiches, made chutney, played scrabble, drank wine. Friends came calling; tea, chat and a chill. Caught out in the rain on a short monkeybike trip, sheltered in the trees. Kicking up the leaves.
Happiness ten-fold.
Passion-a-plenty.

Autumnal passion too

Enjoying the golden brown drive this morning - vivid reds and yellows made brighter by sunglasses on a cloudless day.
Passionate thoughts turn to whether I'd like to make love on a bed of leaves. Or wrapped in blankets on a winter deserted, sunset beach.

Or whether I'd prefer a nice cup of darjeeling and a piece of shortbread by the woodburner, watching Ugly Betty. I sometimes feel old age creeping up and tampering with the odds. Well. It's something to fight against...

Autumnal passion

My drive to work, over Chumbley Warner Corner and beyond takes me through the woods and forests on the way to Thetford. From my birthday onwards, I love to see the gradual brightening of the trees as greens turn to many shades of brown, yellow, red and gold. A month of lively change, brightly lit by a low, cold sun. Beaten by rain, whipped by winds, until the leaves give up their grasp and flurry to ground.

It's man without soul that doesn't find passion in kicking through a carpet of crisp, dry, autumn. Take your time to do just that this weekend if you can. I will!

BOGOF tofu

And tonights not so hidden ingredient. They spotted it straight away in a stir fry sauce. Is this Tofu?!
Yup. Two for one in the supermarket - they'd better like it as there's a freezer full!
Seemed to go down well.

Didn't spot I'd fried it sweet chilli and sesame oil though...

Halloweeeeeennn....

All Hallows Eve.
Growing up - it meant only one thing. Getting tortured by my one year older neighbour as his birthday treat. Little older and it was probably around the village, door knocking and carbide tins. BANG!

Wasn't me.

Going to Halloween? A strange request made sense of by Tarby Davenport. Event organiser. promoter, all round lovely person. Created a once a year, all things to all men, Halloween Fair in Thornham Woods. Acrobats amongst the trees, children's crafty things, bar, juggling and drumming, bar and brilliant bands into the night. Success caused it's demise, hoards of cars abandoned along dark lanes...

It's where I met Kate. Her dressed in a bowler hat and black cape. Lovely sparkly eyes. Me, dressed as a vicar. Cassock and surplus, black nails and eyeliner, wooden cross and dusty from hair to boots with flour. Wholemeal obviously.

Dancing like a loon. Badly.
By the time we went the following year, Kate was pregnant. Happy. Tired, left early to find we were blocked in. Blagged a cup of tea and a comfy sit down in a nearby cottage waiting for the roads to clear.

Years on - home with the kids and I remember the first invasion of trick or treaters. Alice answering the door to a masked face and screaming down the hallway. This year, carved her own pumpkin and went out amongst them. Robert on duty handing out the contents of the larder as his friends came calling.

And I had the chance to play for an hour or so with Them One Night Only Boys down in the town. Home to a woodburner warm house.

Lovely.