Sunday 31 July 2011
The weekend Summer NEARLY happened 30-31 July 2011
Sunday 24 July 2011
Painting, guitars, Grey's Court July 24th 2011-SUMMER!
Monday 18 July 2011
Birthday Run-Up!
And there will of course be strawberries for Emily !
Saturday 16 July 2011
The Great British Summer - Eype 15-16 July 2011
Rain stops play! Lovely fresh ozone time camping on top of a cliff - warnings of gales from reception which we ignored. An all too brief reprieve from the weather at Lyme Regis... ahhh, fish'n chips, the Cobb and taking the air at Lyme is good for the soul! Waking up in a cloud of sea fog and not actually being able to see the gorgeous scenery is not. Neither is unpacking the tents in the rain. Heh di heh, ho di ho!
 |
| For I am the French Lieutenant's whatsit... |
Having a lovely seaside time
Having a lovely seaside timeat Lyme
Saturday 9 July 2011
Anyone for Tennis? July 9th 2011
Tennis is completely brilliant! and I can hit the ball and everything and the tennis coach said that I had a lovely swing - oooeer! Those blessed kites floating above us making their eeeeeeeeork sound; lovely sun coming out and White Waltham airfield planes bombing over our heads. We totally played games and served and everything. A well-mixed group of people, all of similar standards. I can't believe that I haven't played since school and could still hit it! Am going to join the lovely Tennis club of our lovely road (long since an ambition of mine). Needless to say, I have bought all of the kit - plus those wonderful green flash Dunlop trainers. Love it!
A Subaltern's Love Song
poem by John Betjeman
Miss J. Hunter Dunn, Miss J. Hunter Dunn,
Furnish'd and burnish'd by Aldershot sun,
What strenuous singles we played after tea,
We in the tournament - you against me!
Love-thirty, love-forty, oh! weakness of joy,
The speed of a swallow, the grace of a boy,
With carefullest carelessness, gaily you won,
I am weak from your loveliness, Joan Hunter Dunn.
Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
How mad I am, sad I am, glad that you won,
The warm-handled racket is back in its press,
But my shock-headed victor, she loves me no less.
Her father's euonymus shines as we walk,
And swing past the summer-house, buried in talk,
And cool the verandah that welcomes us in
To the six-o'clock news and a lime-juice and gin.
The scent of the conifers, sound of the bath,
The view from my bedroom of moss-dappled path,
As I struggle with double-end evening tie,
For we dance at the Golf Club, my victor and I.
On the floor of her bedroom lie blazer and shorts,
And the cream-coloured walls are be-trophied with sports,
And westering, questioning settles the sun,
On your low-leaded window, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.
The Hillman is waiting, the light's in the hall,
The pictures of Egypt are bright on the wall,
My sweet, I am standing beside the oak stair
And there on the landing's the light on your hair.
By roads "not adopted", by woodlanded ways,
She drove to the club in the late summer haze,
Into nine-o'clock Camberley, heavy with bells
And mushroomy, pine-woody, evergreen smells.
Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
I can hear from the car park the dance has begun,
Oh! Surrey twilight! importunate band!
Oh! strongly adorable tennis-girl's hand!
Around us are Rovers and Austins afar,
Above us the intimate roof of the car,
And here on my right is the girl of my choice,
With the tilt of her nose and the chime of her voice.
And the scent of her wrap, and the words never said,
And the ominous, ominous dancing ahead.
We sat in the car park till twenty to one
And now I'm engaged to Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.
Furnish'd and burnish'd by Aldershot sun,
What strenuous singles we played after tea,
We in the tournament - you against me!
Love-thirty, love-forty, oh! weakness of joy,
The speed of a swallow, the grace of a boy,
With carefullest carelessness, gaily you won,
I am weak from your loveliness, Joan Hunter Dunn.
Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
How mad I am, sad I am, glad that you won,
The warm-handled racket is back in its press,
But my shock-headed victor, she loves me no less.
Her father's euonymus shines as we walk,
And swing past the summer-house, buried in talk,
And cool the verandah that welcomes us in
To the six-o'clock news and a lime-juice and gin.
The scent of the conifers, sound of the bath,
The view from my bedroom of moss-dappled path,
As I struggle with double-end evening tie,
For we dance at the Golf Club, my victor and I.
On the floor of her bedroom lie blazer and shorts,
And the cream-coloured walls are be-trophied with sports,
And westering, questioning settles the sun,
On your low-leaded window, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.
The Hillman is waiting, the light's in the hall,
The pictures of Egypt are bright on the wall,
My sweet, I am standing beside the oak stair
And there on the landing's the light on your hair.
By roads "not adopted", by woodlanded ways,
She drove to the club in the late summer haze,
Into nine-o'clock Camberley, heavy with bells
And mushroomy, pine-woody, evergreen smells.
Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
I can hear from the car park the dance has begun,
Oh! Surrey twilight! importunate band!
Oh! strongly adorable tennis-girl's hand!
Around us are Rovers and Austins afar,
Above us the intimate roof of the car,
And here on my right is the girl of my choice,
With the tilt of her nose and the chime of her voice.
And the scent of her wrap, and the words never said,
And the ominous, ominous dancing ahead.
We sat in the car park till twenty to one
And now I'm engaged to Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.
Tuesday 5 July 2011
The Wonderful Life of - ME! 5th July 2011
Joined THE RAMBLERS! completely brilliant! Did a Tuesday evening walk Hurley, Shepherds Lane and Frogmill. Very pleasant indeed, 3 miles in just over an hour-wow! and I didn't have to have my nose in a guidebook. Just chatted with pleasant people through fields, saw loads of animals, Danesfield Hotel, over the bridge, along the river. HUGE kite overhead. Went down the lane Tom and I had discovered and beyond. It's a myriad of lanes infact, all here on our doorstep... lucky lucky people. x
Later that week...
Well I'm totally off Badminton. That was awful. Got told to stand at the front by a man. 'No, YOU stand at the front and get battered,' felt like saying...but didn't. Very sexist Badminton rules if you ask me. Better to stick to your own side of the court, I think, and bash about. Sportspeople can be so dreary. I only went cos I used to like it and thought it might be FUN! Heh-ho.
Later that week...
Well I'm totally off Badminton. That was awful. Got told to stand at the front by a man. 'No, YOU stand at the front and get battered,' felt like saying...but didn't. Very sexist Badminton rules if you ask me. Better to stick to your own side of the court, I think, and bash about. Sportspeople can be so dreary. I only went cos I used to like it and thought it might be FUN! Heh-ho.
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