Thursday, December 27, 2012
(No, by the way, the lady with the lovely silver hair is not I, but my sister-in-law. I'm the person behind the camera. My hair is greying brown.) Here is Grandson kissing Peter Rabbit, or at least the little puppet inside the book about PR. How lovely that Grandson thinks kissing is an appropriate response to small things. He lives a life surrounded by love.
Yesterday we all went for a walk: the two daughters, Mr Life, Grandson, my brother and sister-in-law, nephew and niece.
I have a baddish cold. So does my brother. Presumably not the same cold, since he lives normally in Surrey and though I got it first, I don't think there was enough time for me to infect him so thoroughly. He is now laid fairly low with it.
I've just finished a book called "London Belongs to Me", which I very much recommend. It's by Norman Collins and it was first published in 1945. I can't remember where I read about this book. On a blog? Anyway, Norman Collins worked for the BBC and ITV, fairly high up, and still had time to write quite a few books including this - long - one. It's a bit JB Priestley-like, somewhat reminiscent of "Angel Pavement", about a house in London and all the lodgers who live there. It's very readable but not piffle at all, in my view.
It's astonishing, I often feel, how much some people achieve in the same 24 hours a day that the rest of us have access to. I often think this when I read the obituaries in the paper. A top lawyer is praised for his top-class lawyering but he also hillwalked a lot, was captain of his local golf club, amassed a famous collection of stamps, took up pottery when he retired and became fluent in six languages. And I think: when did you do the hoovering? Or sort out the photos? Or just do the constant tidying-up that one needs to do in order to live in some semblance of clutterlessness? I always think that he must have had a very selfless wife.
Talking of selfless wives... this is our 39th wedding anniversary. Start saving for the rubies, Mr Life!