Snow in Mortimer

The movers have packed everything and left me to deal with the tidy up of the empty shell. Mo Curly and Larry is what I nicknamed the removalists. Three full on poms, the smallest of these men was Mr Serious. He just got on with the task at hand, only stopping for a toilet break or a cup of tea, no unnecessary chit chat from him. The other gentleman was the clown always saying something silly or singing. He had a beautiful tenor voice that echoed through the house, but he never finished a song off, then he would announce he’s going on x factor. This man did not know how to wipe his feet, mud clumps all over the carpet. Finally the man that runs the show he was Mr Gloomy, his wife had recently left him so he needed a councillor and it seems that councillor was me. The three of them, all so different got the job done and left me with an empty lonely house that needed to be cleaned.With no beds in the house I stayed at De Vere Venue –Wokefield Park just down the road six minutes by car. It is rather classy and huge. But unfortunately the Brits have no idea what good service is, nor do they know how to clean. I had to play the heavy and get my quilt cover removed, and the bath cleaned.After my second night I awoke and looked out my window over the golf course. It had snowed overnight the view was very pretty with four inches of snow on trees and benches, everything was awash with white. After my breakfast I had to rush back to the house to unlock it for the viewing of another interested renter.The first problem was walking to the car, the entrance to the car park was slippery and icy, a few near spills and I made it. I had my bag with my computer, my jewellery, John’s new camera and all the things I did not want to leave in the room, so I planned to put it in the boot. The car looked like a giant cotton ball. I stood there looking how to tackle this new dilemma. Yes I had to put the bag down in the snow, as the car door would not open, it took my a while to locate the handle, luckily the side of a car does not accumulate as much snow as the top, finally with a good pull (thinking the handle would break) the door opened, and a pile of snow fell in onto the drivers seat. Bugger a wet seat, I brushed off as much as I could, then got my now wet bag and threw it onto the passenger seat. Janette is not happy I am wet and freezing.The heater of the car was on full bore for ten minutes and little had happened, the windscreen still was fully obscured with snow. So out with the credit card and I scraped away, my hands were purple and ached with the cold (no gloves). The snow was very hard and icy not soft, I managed to clear a viewing hole. Off I drove not being familiar with driving in snow and ice, I took it very slow and still snow flew up in clumps from the bonnet, thwat in the middle of the windscreen. Maybe I should have taken the bulk of the snow off the bonnet as this could be dangerous.The front garden of our house looked so different all in white, and evidence of a bunnies foot prints through the snow. Even though it was cold I thought how beautiful and wished I had not packed my camera, completely forgetting I had John’s with me. Getting inside the empty house made me feel very sad, my footsteps echoed reminding me I was on my own, how I wish John was not sent to France( how convenient) why am I doing this on my own. John will do anything to avoid a move, I allowed myself to wallow in sadness for a while then got on with the task of the remaining cleaning while I waited for the viewing.

Last train trip

Today I had my last train trip into Reading, as I was walking to the station it was windy and seemed to be getting stronger. I timed the walk perfectly, I had just finished purchasing the tickets when the train pulled up at the platform. It was lunch time so the carriages were rather empty. I sat down at a window and admired the country going in to Reading.Arriving in Reading the wind had picked up considerably, my eyes started to water with the sting of cold air. Leaves everywhere gold and brown with splashes of red, dancing a frenzied dance about my feet on the paved street, settling in a protected corner slowly gaining height. On I walked thinking this will probably be my last time in Reading and I felt rather melancholy.Plastic bags flew about some getting caught in trees, I just watched one struggling and fluttering to escape the grasp of branches. I stood there mesmerized it almost looked life like in its determination to break free and float up and away. A tall man I assume a Scotsman was busking playing the bag pipes in his kilt. He had a small gathering around him, I was wondering whether they were there appreciating the music or waiting for his kilt to blow up. I do not like bag pipes, to me they sound like whining cats, so it is now obvious I was waiting for his kilt to blow up, I am sure he had it weighted down, after ten minutes I left.After finishing my shopping I took the train back to Mortimer, I walked my last walk back from the station, laden with dry cleaning and groceries. I had no hands free to pick the plump blackberries intertwined with the hedges; my hands were hurting as the bag of groceries was cutting into my fingers. I stopped occasionally putting every thing down. I would take a small break reload then trudge on again. Arriving home and dumping my shopping, the phone rang it was Kurt he was on the train to Mortimer. Kurt wanted to come and stay the night, it was to be the last time we would catch up before we go to Switzerland. It was a sad evening I held back tears while Kurt did his best to cheer me up with his funny stories and he did manage to get me laughing maybe it wasn’t his stories but the wine that did the trick.

The ponies at Ascot

John and I went to the Ascot races, not far from here. What a huge race course it was a family day, bands played their were exhibitions of paintings and photos, a caricaturist sketching people. Though John and I did absolutely nothing for our wallets other than lightening them we enjoyed the day. The last two races were pony races children from different pony clubs around the district got dressed in jockey colours and rode their usually fat ponies and a few in good condition in a race, no barriers just a line to start, the boys were so much better than the girls, I wish they would allow betting on the ponies as John and I both picked the winners for those two races.
All is well here, still enjoying the wild life about, well maybe not the huge rat that regularly visits the back yard. The squirrels still make regular appearances, chestnuts are falling from the trees out the front of our street and blackberries galore along the roadsides. I did pick some and make a dessert but they are rather seedy, two days after eating them a seed will dislodge itself from somewhere and make a re appearance on your tongue. Now we stick to the commercial kind.

Ascot photos