Tuesday 10 February 2009

of funerals and fish and chip shops

This week has seen a spate of activity in the village church, St Botolf's, now that the snow has cleared & the ground has softened up. Enough, according to Mr Blewwitt the Sexton, to allow Spud Jones to commence grave digging again as there is rather a back log. Today sees the internment of Mrs Fidge at three pm then followed by Miss Page tomorrow at eleven and then the rest will be put to rest at the end of the week. Mrs Fidge's should be a good do as l am taking several bottles of fruit wine plus a selection of last year's vintage sloe gin range to add to the tea urn. I always feel that funerals are such a nice occasion to catch up on dear friends who have left the village and are only allowed out of the care homes for funeral services.

The snow drops, l noticed are starting to come into flower along the woodland walk which meanders along the edge of 100 acres of deer park surrounding Longshot Manor; l did take my binoculars just in case an unusual bird caught my eye. scanning the tree tops and across the parkland, nothing was out of the ordinary and the manor has not as yet welcomed its new inhabitants. The village awaits with much excitement as to whether the fish and chip shop will reopen in an effort to gain our support?

Yesterday l received a lovely post card from Humph posted in Luxor 2 weeks ago. He briefly informed me that they were making good progress, only occasionally hampered by the overeager tourist. Now Humph and l go way, way back. We first met whilst Monks was still at school, he used to come and stay with us during school holidays, spending most of his time with my brother shooting at anything that moved, certainly we never went short of rabbit whilst he was there!

Oh dear, l must be getting old, l am starting to sound just like an old woman thinking about the past, as long as l don't raise a tear in my eye l will be fine, not much chance of that l can quiet safely say. Now, in about 1936 l think it was, Humph and myself armed with pretty basic camping equipment and elderly map, headed across the channel, boarded the sleeper heading down to Narbonne, and from here armed with our pretty basic kit which did include a compass, headed off across country, with the aim of following the route to Santiago de Compostela. Now, that was one hell of an adventure, sleeping under the stars, toasting croissant in front of the camp fire and hearing that he had just become engaged to the Honorable Caroline Beachamp-Smyth. We did finish the walk but the atmosphere seemed to have changed and l did not see Humph again until after the war by which time much water had passed under the bridge.



3 comments:

Sally Townsend said...

Mrs EB, and please forgive me for being so familiar and abbreviating your name, I am however a very busy woman with a business to run. I rather get the impression that you are regretting letting that nice sounding young man Humph slip through your fingers. Still, as they say, 'the sea is full of fish the best of which are yet to be caught'.

Un Peu Loufoque said...

Suspect that Honorable Caroline Beachamp-Smyth iddnt go camping under the stars and sleeping rough..what a shame that nice young man got away he soudsn a real catch!!

Pondside said...

I'm sure there's more to this story than a camping trip with an odd end. Tell all Mrs EB!!!