As usual, we saw the New Year in unconsciously. The pandemic put paid to our usual Hogmanay in Gillingham with Marion and John, and now that we’re free - and ready - to get out and about again, John is now very poorly, and in a care home.
We did manage to socialise a little: Annie and her brother Terry came to lunch the following Tuesday: former had been staying with latter over New Year, her rail travel south having gone flawlessly. Lunch of shepherd’s pie, using lamb left over from Boxing Day, cooked with stacks of veggies and frozen in readiness. And that rarety in this house: pudding. Apple and blackberry crumble, using some fruit from neighbour Annie’s tree, plus some Bramleys and blackberries from Fortnums. Latter originating in Guatemala, no less. Then tea and Mary Berry mince pies, which use less pastry than most, topped with grated marzipan rather than more pastry, and cutting the sweetness of the mincemeat with chopped dried apricots. And the pastry incorporates orange zest, so they are rather luxurious.
Given the uncertainty over return train services, Terry had nobly volunteered to drive Annie home to E Yorks, and after she had spent a day or two with us, we did a pass-the-parcel routine near the M25, to save Terry an extra hour’s driving. We met in a pub car park at Bessells Green on the outskirts of Sevenoaks, taking a route I’d probably have used more often had I bothered to study the map: it includes the spectacular view across the Weald from Ide Hill. Annie and I went for a brief but really interesting walk while we waited for Terry to arrive. One garden boasted a huge bay tree; one house had its chimney buttressed to the apex of the roof of the house next door! I wonder what the story is.
Sad news last month: the deaths of friends, and the follow-up is somewhat chaotic. The funeral of my late colleague is tomorrow, but the wish is expressed that it should be for family and close friends. The croque-morts couldn’t enlighten me as to arrangements for a memorial service, so I’ve redisorganised tomorrow’s diary to accommodate a lunch for beaks emeritus instead. Perhaps marginally less funereal.
First in-person meeting today of the U3A German conversation group. Nice to see members again, and in one case, for the first time in person. Rotten drive to Wadhurst, however, though I managed to avoid the worst of the potholes.
I'm refraining from political commentary for the moment: I could hardly improve on the news coverage.
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