Chuff chuff

We've just come back from London, where we went with Big Grandson with the express purpose of riding around on various modes of London transport. We took the train down there on Tuesday (bus, long-distance train, underground, overground, bus - to get to Daughter 2's house) and then spent two days on trains, buses and tubes. This is not normally my idea of very heaven; indeed, it's more like very hell for someone who doesn't like London or travelling in vehicles, has no interest in trains or buses and is rather motion sick. However, it was very nice being with Big Grandson and seeing his pleasure. He really loves, and is very knowledgeable about, transport. 

Luckily Mr L is more interested than I am. 

Not a beautiful sight, though improved by the back of our little chap's head. 

Also not postcard-worthy. 

London is unfeasibly enormous. We went to lots of places that I'd never heard of: Northwick Park, Stonebridge Park, Abbey Wood, Eastcote... 

I imagine I'll never be there again! 

The one place I did find interesting in was Uxbridge, where we walked down a little street and found a small park on land that had been given as a graveyard by Henry, Earl of Darby, Lord of Stanly and Strange Lord of Man and the Isles in 1576; and decommissioned, if that's the word, in 1855. Even at that later date, I imagine that it was an idyllic village spot for the dead to lie in peace. Now it's surrounded on three sides by roaring traffic, though there are daffodils and the odd bench. Grandson enjoyed bus spotting through the fence. 

Look at all the gravestones piled against the wall,

like this one for little Elizabeth Powell, who died in 1757 aged (I think) 30 months, doubtless breaking her parents' hearts. 

And then we came home again on the bus, train, tube, train and bus with Daughter 2 and Littlest Granddaughter. Four straight days travelling. It was worth it but we won't be doing that again in a hurry! However, Grandson had a lovely time, and that was the point. 

Miss Crichton and other beautiful things

The decluttering continues, haltingly. Why did I ever keep this project on Mary Queen of Scots from my history class in 1962? 

The teacher who got us to do this project was one of the several eccentrics at my school - which was an all-girls, private one. She was called Miss Crichton and was known among us as Granny Crichton because she was so ancient - though I would be amazed if she were actually a granny. In those days, the retiral age for women teachers was 60, so this old, old lady was presumably about 55. She was always cold, and in winter and summer wore a tweed suit - often a cherry red one - with a scarf. In our school the teachers rather than the girls moved classrooms, and she would come into ours carrying a travel rug, climb on to the slightly raised platform at the front of the class, sit down at the desk, turn the chair towards the radiator, cover her legs with the rug and teach from that position, looking at us sideways. If the windows were open, she would direct us to close them. 

This would not have worked in the secondary school in which I taught. Fortunately we were very well-behaved.  

Her hair was suspiciously black and it was rumoured that it was a wig. It was certainly very shiny, though I think it probably looked wig-like mainly because she wore a hairnet over it, so it was bunched up at the ends. Her face was very round and flat and white - and, as I remember, wrinkled (though see above). 

In the two years that we had her, Miss Crichton gave us three projects that I can remember - the one above, one on the voyages of Christopher Columbus and one on the battle of Blenheim. I think I threw the others out some years ago but the M Q of S one somehow survived. It was long before the internet or even readily available photocopiers, so quite a lot of research went into these projects and we all travelled to museums and so on to acquire postcards as illustrations. There were about 15 handwritten pages in each and they took a long time. On the back of this one, Granny C has written VG+. That's all. Not a single comment anywhere else in the project. Which I now think is absolutely disgraceful! I wonder if she even read them. 

Ah well, this work of research has now been decluttered, along with all my school reports, a good number of my missionary aunt's photos of people unknown to us, all my school magazines and various other bits of paper which I don't want the children to feel that they need to keep once I'm no longer here.

At the Botanics, spring is in full gallop

And so it is, on a smaller scale, in our garden. 

Mr L, Big Grandson's other grandfather and Big Grandson had a grand day out in Glasgow at a model railway exhibition. I think this is an exhibit rather than the view from the train on the way there. 

And Daughter 2 has finished the stool she made at a stool-making class. It's lovely!

 

Covid impatience

This is what our sitting room looks like when Big Grandson is visiting. We have far too much Brio and not enough cupboards to put it in, but he does love it. What will we do with it when he's grown out of it?? Give it away, you'd think, but he says we need to keep it for ever. Hmm. 

Going to the Botanics always makes me happy, and spring is probably the best season for it - there are so many rhododendrons. The spring bulbs are heart-lifting too, like these daffodils in front of the blow-up golden monkey, which was being buffeted about today in a stiff breeze as it clung to Inverleith House . 

But I mean...

who could fail to be cheered by

rhododendrons - even if, to my eye, these colours don't really go?

My photo doesn't nearly do justice to the huge flowers of this beautiful magnolia. 

So white. So perfect. So frilly. 

And the daffodils

and the, umm, can't quite think what these are, but pink. Primula of some sort? 

And more daffodils, certainly fluttering and dancing in today's wind. 

But it's now March 29 and when I think about this, I panic a bit because I feel we're just putting in the time and we don't have time to spare! The months fly past with nothing to show for them and no visits from our beloved distant young people - and frankly, the only consolation for getting old is seeing the young ones develop. Well, that and having time to go for nice walks, which is also a great good fortune. Count your blessings, count your blessings. 

So we came home and I put the final borders on the ridiculously pastel quilt, which at least gives me the illusion of achievement. Luckily I have just enough wadding and just enough backing fabric and material for the binding to do me until the next quilt - no idea what that will be. But I hope the shops will be open by then. 

 

Lockdown week 6 - Tuesday

I'm putting too many photos on the blog; I realise that. But it cheers me up to see the loveliness that lifted our spirits earlier in the day. Today we crossed the golf course and walked up the lane between the two halves of it,

enjoying the bluebells (even though they're wicked invasive Spanish ones - but they're pretty)

and the campion

and the cherry blossom

and climbed up the hill to admire the view of the city.

Then we walked along the spine of the hill, which gives good views of the sea and of Fife, on the other side. The "sea" is actually a wide river estuary, but it's tidal and salty so we always think of it as the sea. 

The sun shining through the trees made interesting shadow patterns.

Blue blue blue.

Here we are, looking back at the city.

And then we came out of the end of the wood and looked over the other side of the hill, towards the west and south.

There's the airport - see the tower about a third of the way from the left, half way down the photo? There were no planes at all while we watched.

And there's the new bridge across the river, looking like a series of tents, with a tiny glimpse of the rail bridge - the little curve of red latticework sticking up under the middle tent.

Then we went back along the top of the hill. You can see how shallow the earth must be in places - just a thin layer over rock, so that the roots of the trees have to fan out over the surface.

 
These steps are steeper than they look here.

Our friends the zebras, through the Zoo fence.

And down through the gorse bushes to the road, and home. Mr L's clever device stopped working half way through our walk, but it was about 5 hilly miles.

In the afternoon I cut out lots of little strips of fabric for the border of Small Grandson's quilt. Then in the evening there was a Zoom book group meeting. And so the days drift on in their not unpleasant, but sadly grandchildless way.

Bustin' out all over

The weeks are flying past, mainly because I'm spending long hours making patchwork stars. You'd think this was very easy - well, it's not exactly intellectual, but it's a tremendous fiddle, requiring frequent adjustments. Each 16-patch with added star takes 2-3 hours (yes, I realise my proper sewing friends could do them much quicker) and there are 20 of them. And I'm now wondering if I need an extra row, which would be another 4. I must be mad... .

Anyway, I visited a friend for coffee the other day. Her flat overlooks the sea and the Forth Bridge - above. She's such a lovely person. Her much-older husband has fairly suddenly become very frail indeed; he's so lucky to have her to look after him.

And it's spring! I slaved away on the garden a couple of weeks ago and got it all tidied up, so it's looking good - showing off all the lovely flowering bulbs. I do love hyacinths. The scent is wonderful, even outside.

There are lots of daffodils, though as ever, some are being nibbled by pesky slugs and snails. Still, I suppose they have to eat too (I try to tell myself).

Luckily they don't eat hyacinths. My we're-all-God's-creatures attitude might not stretch that far.

The trouble with taking photos of the garden is that it makes me notice that the fence looks a bit scruffy.


Grandson: Oh good, we're having Nutella on our pancakes!
Daughter 1: Well, it's chocolate spread. There aren't any nuts in it.
Grandson: Just Ella, then. 

(I thought this was quite a good joke for a 7-year-old.)

Trains

Our grandson loves his Brio train set. It was actually Son's Brio train set, but it's been added to over the past few years and even more so over the last couple of weeks, when I found some second-hand for sale in Edinburgh on Gumtree and couldn't resist buying it. He was extremely pleased. We may now have rather too much of it for the size of our sitting room. Biggest Granddaughter was also quite interested for a while after the extra stuff arrived, especially in the trees and the people that came with it, but after a while she decided to decorate one of the boxes that it came in. They're definitely a girl and a boy.

Presently the Brio started escaping from the room and invaded the hall. Grandson had an ambition to make it go up the stairs, but he didn't have enough boosting bits. This may be just as well.

Daughter 2 and Littlest Granddaughter were supposed to arrive for a long weekend on Friday evening, but, alas, there was a fatality on the line somewhere between York and Newcastle and the trains were very disrupted. Daughter and Littlest ended up staying Friday night in a hotel in York, the alternative being to transfer on to a replacement bus to Newcastle and then get another train, which would have meant a very late arrival indeed. Of course it's absolutely awful that anyone should want to end his/her life this way, but it must be almost equally awful for the train driver and those who have to deal with the aftermath. And it causes huge disruption for thousands of people. It's hard to imagine being quite so blind to all the consequences for others as to commit suicide under a train; unless maybe the person actually wants to make an impact on as many people as possible? I suppose they're in such a state that they're incapable of thinking straight. How very terrible.

Anyway, Daughter 2 and Littlest arrived on Saturday and it was lovely to see them, though not so lovely to say goodbye again on Monday.

Yesterday we went up to see Son and Medium Granddaughter, the Unbloggable Small Person. She's such a sweetie and very chatty and interesting, and she knows us and seems to be happy to see us. But we only see her for a few hours every few weeks so it's pleasure mixed with sadness. (Yes, I do know that we're lucky to have these lovely grandchildren and I shouldn't complain. But still.)