Doing lots of stuff

Last Tuesday the Edinburgh Two were on holiday so Mr Life and I took them up to Perth (the real one) for the day. They came up on the bus by themselves and met us at the station, which was a first. Transport enthusiast Big Grandson goes on buses by himself quite a lot - for bus inspection and exploration purposes - but he doesn't normally do this with his little sister, who's less intrepid. He was told not to stride off without her, so here he is, holding her hand firmly. Look at his long hair! He has really nice hair but I think it could do with a cut...

Anyway, we had a good day at the museum and by the river. 

"Look at the lovely view!" I said. "There's a Citylink coach going over that bridge," replied Big Grandson.

There was an exhibition about Macbeth - mainly the play, not the man - at the museum - with some amusing cartoons about it, as well as some interesting information. 

Apart from that, my life has been full of fairly mundane stuff, such as making seating plans for our choir's impending concert. It's not as easy as you'd think. And then people complain...

The garden's coming on nicely, though needs a lot of work. Gardens always need a lot of work.

Look, Margaret G-F - your father's famous cousin, Christopher Murray Grieve aka Hugh MacDiarmid, made the Scotsman again last weekend. 

Right, it's Mr Life's 77th birthday today so we're off up town to see an exhibition about James V1 of Scotland, aka James I of Britain. We're getting old... but still doing lots of stuff. 
 

Hope

I'm very busy with stuff for the choir of which I'm chair - we have a concert, a come-and-sing and a social to arrange, and I'm not that good at thinking of three complicated events at the same time. However, I'm doing it as best I can. Time will tell if it's enough... .

Meanwhile, it's been lovely springlike weather - though frankly we need the rain - and we took a walk down to the local park. It's not quite in its spring glory, but it's still lovely to stroll round. By next week there will be lots of these alliums waving in the breeze. 

There's some pleasing topiary -  

not up to the King's standard, but still rather jolly. 

A bird!

And quite a lot of colour. 

It's a historic place, but then I suppose everywhere is, really. It's just not all mentioned in King David's Charter of 1128. 

The world news is very depressing, but then there are flowers, such as this little bunch from the garden. And, this holiday weekend, a lovely visit from the UnBloggables, who had a nice time ice skating and going to the Minecraft movie with the Edinburgh Two on Saturday, and visiting the Edinburgh Two at home and then going to an adventure playground with friends on Sunday. We visited Saughton Park, but the playpark bit, this morning. And now they're away and I'm making choir arrangements. 

So we just have to keep singing, keep gardening (haven't had time to get back to the quilt yet) and hope that someone, somewhere out there, will see sense.
 

Tulips and other signs of spring

Amazingly, some of my Mother's Day flowers are still hanging on. (Mother's Day here was March 15!)

I have been far too busy, arranging and rearranging social events for groups of friends (which will be nice, of course) and doing lots of admin for the choir of which I'm chair. Much too much time has been spent on the computer. However, on Saturday we redid the walk for which we did the recce a few weeks ago; this time it was the real thing, with the other walking chums. 

On the recce we were walking into a strong wind, which made it quite tiring. 

But on Saturday the weather was perfect for walking: mild and very still, and what with that and the chatting, the 6 and a half miles felt easy. 

Back in Edinburgh, the cherry blossom is going over, with drifts of pink on the pavements. 

The trees are so pretty, though. 

This is part of a regular walk near where we live. 

This bit of the Water of Leith feels quite rural, though it isn't. 

And back home, the garden flourishes, 

as does this pot of tulips outside the front door. I love the colour. 

So as long as one doesn't listen to the news, life is peaceful. 

 

Flowers and things

Nothing much has been happening (well, a lot has, but mainly just the catching up that one has to do after time away) but the garden's been very busy. This is my little Cercis Chinensis tree that I got a couple of years ago. Isn't it pretty? 

And here is a self-seeded honesty plant that I allowed to grow. 

A rhododendron that was in the garden when we moved in, 36 years ago. 

Frilly tulips. 

Aubretia. 

Pieris japonica. 

White saxifrage with various other things: drumstick primula, narcissus, euonymus. 

We went to the Botanics today and they were very flowery too. 

And herony.

Three of the seven friends I meet up with on Mondays have been widowed in the last couple of years, and they've been struggling with the post-death bureaucracy that involves many passwords and "special words" and so on. And it occurred to me that my generation of widows (I'm 74) are maybe particularly penalised by all this. A few years ago, it was a case of filling in some forms. Now, it's much more complicated; just at the time when you're at your most vulnerable. A younger generation will be digital natives and find it easier. Of course, some of my contemporaries are really skilled with computers; but I would guess that most of them are like me - good at doing the things they do every day on the computer, but tending to rely on their husbands for the more complicated stuff. 

Otherwise, we've had lucky lives, I'd be the first to admit. But this particular aspect is a hard one. 

 

A-wandering

We've been away with the Edinburgh family to Paris. Notre Dame's repairs are not finished yet, by any means. We didn't go in but we did watch huge cranes bringing materials in. I would not like to be a crane driver. Imagine climbing up that huge ladder! 

We were there primarily because the children wanted to go, Big Grandson partly to ride on the Paris metro and Big Granddaughter because she wanted to go abroad (and is learning French). I've been to Paris several times, and while it has many beautiful buildings, it's too much of a big city for me. But it was nice being there with the family. We did many of the touristy things. 

These included a day at Versailles. The Hall of Mirrors was very impressive (as it was the last time)

though the best bit (for me) may have been the tulips. We were very lucky with the weather, which was warm but not hot. 

We visited the Musee D'Orsay. Big Grandson likes (understatement) trains (and it used to be a station) and polar bears. He has a toy version of this polar bear by Pompon, and brought one to meet the other. He's 13 and a half and did this half-ironically, but half soppily. 

It's a good museum/art gallery, with lovely Art Deco furniture as well as paintings and sculptures.

The lad got to ride on many metros and some buses, so was happy. 

Our hotel, the Hotel Eden, was lavishly embellished with ornamental apples, which Son-in-Law 1 didn't notice at all till they were pointed out on the last day, at which point we discovered that Mr L had observed them but failed to make the connection with Eden. I tell you...

And on the way back, we spent the weekend with Daughter 2 and family, during which we went to the Young V&A, which was very good. I don't like huge cities - I find them oppressive and scary and I hate underground railways - but London does have some nice stuff. 

I was very happy to get home, though, especially as we have Daughter 2 and Littlest Granddaughter with us for some Easter childminding. And then next week - back to the rainbow quilt. 
 

Moving on...

On Monday we went to my friend H's funeral in Melrose. It was very sad and somewhat strange. Two of my friends were killed in car accidents when they were 23, which was very awful. One of them was H's sister, and the other was one of my very best friends from when we were 5. Both deaths were huge shocks. I lost another good friend about ten years ago, but since then, no one of my age who was very close to me has died, which I suppose makes me very lucky. But I'll be 75 in the summer, so, facing facts, this is likely to keep happening in the coming years. My mum lost absolutely all of the friends from her youth; that's what tends to happen if you live till you're 90. Mum fortunately made various younger friends in her old age, which was lovely for her. 

H and I hadn't fallen out at all, but she became somewhat reclusive in her latter years, so I hadn't seen her for some considerable time, though we kept in touch. I always thought we might meet up again, but of course I now know that we won't. Her death is nothing like the tragedy of her sister's and my other friend's - 74 isn't a bad age. But we shared a lot of adventures in our youth - for example, we travelled round Canada and the USA on Greyhound buses for a calendar month in 1970 - and now we'll never again have chats and giggles about our journey. 

Anyway, I've done a lot of gardening this week, planting things and digging out bits of plants that had got too big and so on. There's nothing like gardening to make one look forward. The weather's been beautiful too, which always raises the spirits. Here's to life! 

 

Variety

Ah, spring, lovely spring. The garden is very daffodilly. 

And a bit tulipy.

And somewhat drumstick primula-ish.

I planted blue scillas years ago and, perversely, they insist on marching out of the flowerbed into the driveway, from where it's impossible to dig them out. Why can't they seed themselves in the opposite direction? I do love them, though. 

We did a recce for a walk the other day, along a former railway line from Bonnyrigg to Penicuik. It was a sunny day but quite breezy, with the wind in our faces, which made it harder to walk. 

Signs of spring in these pussy willows. 

This community woodland thoughtfully provided a bench for the weary traveller. We sat on it. 

It was all very jolly, but it was also six and a half miles, so we were pleased to arrive in Penicuik and have a coffee, before bussing home. 

Penicuik, pronounced Pennycook.

Smallest Granddaughter was delighted when a greenfly landed on her hand the other day. I'm not myself a great greenfly fan; they eat my plants. Still, it's lovely to see the world through a child's eyes.

Talking of eyes, I discovered recently that Son-in-Law 1 doesn't know the colours of his (two) children's eyes. I was absolutely astounded. We discussed this a bit, and he said, well, it's not important. Which it isn't, but I still can't imagine not knowing - well, the colours of most of my friends' eyes, let alone my children's. As I climbed into bed later that night, I thought to check that my dear husband, whom I've known since 1964, knows the colours of our children's eyes. And he doesn't! (He was keeping that very quiet during the discussion.)

I then thought to mention this to two separate groups of friends. I thought they would all express extreme amazement, but on the whole they all nodded and said "Mmm". One remarked that she couldn't really say what colours her children's eyes were, and then said the same as my SIL: that it wasn't important. And I agree: it's not important. But still...

Now, I'm not claiming special powers - I haven't got much sense of direction, for example and am not good if my computer misbehaves. But on the whole, should I want to think of the colours of my friends' eyes, I just imagine their faces and look at the colour. I mean, it's not an infallible system if it's someone I've only met a few times, but if I know them, I know their eye colour and, come to that, the shape of their teeth and their noses and what their hands are like and so on. Is this unusual, o bloggy friends? Surely not?