Today
I guess it had to happen. Becky and Richard caved in (without much resistance, I'm sure) to Carmen's longing for a pet. To achieve this they went to a local rescue centre in L'Eliana. "Battersea, it was not", Becky told me. "There was a room full of adults and another full of kittens." From this melee they chose Rosie and Mac an unrelated pair of four-month olds who seem to be rather cute.
In my day
After my cats Agamemnon and Amelia died in 1993, we were told of some kittens needing new homes. They were at a ramshacke farm cottage near Priddy. The Kittens were in an undecorated and unfurnished room with a board fixed across the door to keep them from straying. The mother cats - there were three, a mother and daughters - hopped across it at will, as did the farm dogs who jumped in to eat the cat food.
In this room there were fifteen kittens, aged between four and eight weeks old, all rolling about and playing. There was every colour from black to white, ginger, tabby and tortoiseshell. They were all more or less related. Our attention was drawn to a noisy little black and white - rather like the Felix cat food cat. We picked him up. "Do you know", the owner said, volubly "at one time we thought he was dead. we found him not moving, spreadeagled on the floor. But he's fine now." After that, there was no putting this little one back in the mix. We named him Amadeus for his musical and persistent Miaow, and decided to bring him home. (We later discovered that he had suffered a broken pelvis, and wondered if one of the dogs had given him a shake).
We wanted two cats and gazed at the heaving piles of babies, wondering who might be a companion to Amadeus. Suddenly there was a loud squeaking coming from behind a radiator. We rescued a little fluffy white and tortoiseshell kitten who had got stuck. Perfect! The owners said she been sort of reserved for a woman who wanted to give her to her one-year-old grandson. Terrible, we said. He's too little, she's too little. In this way we persuaded her that we could give her the best care and she was ours.
Lizzie named her Arietty and she did have a lovely life with us. Neither cat was as healthy as they might have been, being inbred and having had indifferent care. Both had to have calcium supplements for the first few months and Amadeus died suddenly at age 4.
But, life without a cat or two to share it? Impossible! And it seems that my daughters both agree.
Today
This morning, as we took our constitutional up the High Street I noticed one of those "Baby on Board" signs attached to the rear window. Although this one, bizarrely, said "Waterbaby on Board".
I'm not sure what these are trying to achieve; maybe people think that it's OK to drive right up against someone's boot if there isn't a baby in the car. Plus these cars often still have the signs up when there's no baby in the car.
In My Day
Of course, having people persistently driving too close is very irritating and can be intimidating. Sometime back in the '70s Paul decided to do something about it. First, with the help of his colleagues at Hannington's he made a long pyramid shaped box - rather like a Toblerone - that would fit along the rear parcel shelf or our Zephyr.
Then he made and inserted some letters that could be illuminated, reading "Keep your distance!" He wired it all up and put a switch on the dashboard. The idea was that he would flick this switch whenever someone was driving too close, telling them to back off a little.
I think he used it quite often. Whether it caused people to increase their distance or actually made them come closer so that they could see what the sign was saying, I can't say. Its effectiveness varied according to the time of day; in bright sunshine it was not very readable.
He certainly didn't carry the idea over into future cars and I don't think we have been more or less pestered by "tailgaters" since.
I've just trawled the internet and find that there are many bumper stickers carrying this message, including a strange one that says "new driver, keep your distance" as though it's OK not to with an experienced driver.
The truth is, whoever or whatever may be on board the vehicle in front, the two-second rule counts.
Today
Last week I was disappointed that I had to cancel going to my friends' youngest daughter's wedding, because Paul didn't feel well enough to travel.
Lizzie went, though. "You received a mention in the speeches, Mum," she said "John said that he thought that you and Dad had paid the train fare to London for their wedding".
In My Day
Weddings always used to be so much more on a shoestring; at least in my experience. On New Year's Eve 1976, John and Beverley decided to tie the knot. Beverley had set her heart on having the ceremony at Caxton Hall in London, the same as her parents. This was duly arranged and we planned to drive as far as South London, then catch a train to Victoria.
The wedding guests consisted of Paul & Me, who were also to be witnesses. We drove up as far as East Croydon station, parked and hopped on the train. As we whizzed through Clapham Junction John looked a little wistful. "What are you thinking, John?" I asked. "Well", he said "I rather wish we'd gone for the whole thing, penguin suits and all....." A bit late for that, John!
We walked from Victoria to Caxton Hall and had a simple and happy ceremony. Afterwards we walked back, buying a single of "Don't Cry for me Argentina" that had just been released. Beverley sent flowers to her Mum to let her know what had occurred.
Then back to Crystal Palace and to David's house, where we found the children perched on chairs to throw rice over the bride and groom and enjoyed a feast of Xmas left-overs.
We all drove in convoy back to Eastbourne where we had a huge party, confusing guests who weren't sure whether it was to celebrate my birthday, the wedding or New Year. Doh! All three of course.
I have no memory of paying for all our tickets; we were all equally poor at that time. If I did, John, it was a pleasure.
Today
This morning I was honoured to support Joan while she presented a new award to the local primary school. This was the David Dixon award for improvement in writing and it was given to a small girl who, with much effort, had discovered how to get her ideas into written form.
The event was held at St Peter and Paul's church in Shepton Mallet and was a happy affair. The teachers of the year six leaving class had put together an amusing description of notable events during the year and children presented a leaving teacher with beautiful handmade cards. Gifts of Bibles (it is a C of E school), alarm clocks and hoodies with the year and pupils' names on the back were given to each child in the leaving year.
Later, talking to Joan, I said "do you remember speech days?"
In My Day
At my school and, I am sure, at countless other throughout the country, we had an annual "speech day". We all gathered in the hall, teachers were flossied up in full cap and gown and we were harangued for quite a long time by various people whom we never otherwise saw. Governors were a fearsome bunch in those days, not at all like the ever visible and very local head of governors who spoke today.
We sang the school hymn - "The Skye Boat Song", and, predictably, saw the same high-flyers receive prizes each year. There were no prizes for students for effort, improvement, politeness nor for any other indications that some of us were struggling against the odds.
Prizes all seemed to be improving books, such as volumes of Tennyson, so they weren't exactly things to envy. It was more that, for most of us, it was an event to observe, rather than participate in. And, unless you were already very good at music, sport or classics, you could do nothing to change the outcome.
And as for giving each child a reward or the teachers doing a bit of karaoke satirising the year's events and making light-hearted digs at pupils' and teachers' foibles, heaven forfend.
It's all part, it seems to me, of modern education being an experience shared between parents, pupils and teachers, rather than simply being handed down from high.
I was glad to be part of this event and very much hope that the children will remember and treasure today.
I guess it had to happen. Becky and Richard caved in (without much resistance, I'm sure) to Carmen's longing for a pet. To achieve this they went to a local rescue centre in L'Eliana. "Battersea, it was not", Becky told me. "There was a room full of adults and another full of kittens." From this melee they chose Rosie and Mac an unrelated pair of four-month olds who seem to be rather cute. 
