The book of gold

It still says that comments on my blog will be moderated - I don't know how to remove this - but they won't be. Though moderation worked all right to begin with, it became a great nuisance because I kept being notified of all these idiot scammy things on ancient posts, which I then had to delete both from my emails and my comment list - and they hardly matter, really, because they're so old and I don't suppose anyone looks at them. But also, marking things as spam didn't stop the same names appearing again - presumably from a different, um, address. And then my computer started refusing to delete them from my comments list. So all in all, sorry if you come across stupid comments urging you to do illegal things. Don't do it. 

That was interesting, wasn't it? (No.) 

In pursuit of organising the archives, I came across this citation giving the reasons for my father's award, at the age of 21, of the George Medal - a highly prestigious thing. He was presented with it at Buckingham Palace by George V1. Honestly, we later generations have had it so easy. So easy. I don't remember seeing this piece of paper before. I was aware that he'd defused maybe one particularly interesting bomb to win the medal. But this - well... . He was a brilliant and multi-talented man and could be great fun, but he could also be very difficult from time to time and I wish now that I'd made more allowances in my judgement of him on those occasions. 

In my infinitely less worthwhile life, I picked the Edinburgh Two up from school, admiring the view of the hill from their playground. 

We walked in Saughton Park, admiring the late summer flowers. 

And we went up to Son's to celebrate his 37th birthday (my baby!) with the Edinburgh Two and their parents. We had a lovely day, walking up the hill, 

ploutering in the burn (the children, not me)

and enjoying the sunshine. 

Medium and Biggest Granddaughter enjoyed crafting together (aww), 

while Son allowed Big Grandson to mow his lawn and paid him £2 for his efforts. Big G was delighted!

So it was all very pleasant but I feel that Dad will have a more impressive entry in the afterlife Who's Who than I will, with my gardening, cake-making and quilts. It's somewhat depressing, though I suppose some of us have to wash the kitchen floor and do the dishes. Dad certainly didn't.... .