Sunday, 1 July 2018

Another sunny day.

Another sunny day here on the edge of the Yorkshire Dales.   In the distance, as I stand in my sitting room window early on a Sunday morning, I cannot see my usual view of The Fell - it is wreathed in a thick early morning mist.   But by ten o'clock the mist has cleared and the sun is out.

Yesterday was to have been a totally empty day for me.   Saturdays for anyone who lives alone are perhaps the hardest day of the week.   Sundays would be too except that four of us always lunch
out and that takes up a large part of the day.   But at lunchtime friend W rang - 'let's go and have an ice cream' - so off we went.   Everywhere was beginning to look very parched.   The fields were not greening up, the leaves on the trees by the roadside no longer had that fresh, green look they wore in Spring, the flowers on the roadsides were faded and dying.

The bikers were out in force.   We get droves of bikers up here from April to September.   They have just as much right to be on the road as we do and they are, for a large part, very good drivers. 
Because the machines they drive are very swish models the drivers tend to be middle aged men (presumably they are middle aged with grown up children before most of them can afford such models) and, sadly, over the Summer there are  quite a few accidents - often fatal or life-changing.
Because of the fashion these days to leave flowers at the scene of accidents these deaths can often be marked for years by the sides of the road.   One such, just a few miles from here, occurred when a tractor and trailer were driving into a field when a motor cyclist came round the corner at speed and hit the trailer.   Nobody's fault really but a tragic death.   Flowers by the side of the road still - somebody remembers.

On a lighter note - the bikers were out in force at the Ice Cream Parlour too.   Just before we arrived a party of about twenty of them arrived and swelled the queue!  As we sat licking our ice cream cones at a table (like five year olds) two middle-aged bikers came and sat at the next table.   Both had large ice creams (and tummies to match) and one had a black T shirt on.   Across his chest was written:  'My biker grandad.  Like other grandads but cooler'.   When I told my son that later on he said he had driven behind a biker and on the back of his T shirt was the message 'if you can read this then my wife has fallen off the pillion seat!'

Tess and I have had our morning walk in the cool.  In a couple of hours I shall go and collect W en route for our lunch date.  In the meantime I think water the courgettes and patty pans and the tubs in the sunshine of the front garden and then have a cooling shower.

On a totally different note again.   I have just read an interesting article on Seamus Heaney in yesterday's Guardian.  It mentioned a particularly poignant poem and I have just looked it up and run it off and printed it to read at our next Poetry group.   It is sad but it is beautifully written.   Do look at it on Wikipedia.   It is called 'Mid term break' and is about the death of Heaney's young brother.  How much a poem can manage to put in so few words.

17 comments:

Rachel Phillips said...

Saturdays are the hardest day for me. I don't know what it is except all it can be is I believe that everybody else is having fun and I am not. And then another week starts and I am ok again until Saturday. I read the Seamus Heaney piece in the Guardian. He always managed to capture what mattered in a few words.

Tom Stephenson said...

It took me years to get over the feeling that everyone else was having fun together without me on Saturdays. In reality, they are usually not. I have seen that biker's t-shirt before. Very good.

John "By Stargoose And Hanglands" said...

At Strawberry Fair in Cambridge I stood aside to let a woman in a wheelchair come closer to the stage - on the back of her chair she had a sticker "Not drunk, just trying to steer around the potholes".

Derek Faulkner said...

As a retired person I don't have a problem with weekends, they're just part of a seven day week to me, what I could do at a weekend I can just as easily do in the week. As for other people having fun at the weekend, well that's because the poor buggers have to be at work all week, they're probably as jealous as heck because we have all week to enjoy ourselves, especially in this current weather. Do I miss having a permanent 7-day a week partner, no I love it. There was a comment in the Telegraph today about how awful our National Anthem sounds against some of the other, more stirring ones played in the World Cup. You could easily imagine going into battle as the anthem of the Germans and the French were playing, but ours, we'd probably fall asleep. I always recall a Billy Connolly skit where he suggested that we change it for the Archers theme - dum-de-dum-de-dum-de-do- so much more jolly!

Heather said...

Love those biker tea shirts logos. It reminded me of an uncle and aunt who had a biking honeymoon. They stopped for tea somewhere and then went on their way, except that my aunt was still standing on the pavement when uncle moved off. He couldn't understand why she wasn't replying to his conversation when he realised he was alone, so went back to find her. He always said she was a wonderful pillion rider and hardly knew she was there.
I can hardly keep my eyes open in this weather. Maybe it down to the anti-histamine tablets I'm taking but they supposed to not cause drowsiness. I have never suffered from hayfever before but this year it has been very troublesome.

Joanne Noragon said...

Such a poet. I knew his Requiem for Croppies.

The Weaver of Grass said...

Interesting to read your comments on Saturdays. I think it is because Saturdays alone just serve to remind me that the farmer is gone for good and that he is not coming back.

justjill said...

I should imagine that is hard. I hate Sundays, but for a selfish reason as 'my' beach is taken over by idiots. Lots of them. Grumpy Old Woman I have become. You have lovely friends.

Sue in Suffolk said...

I am dreading winter weekends.

Bovey Belle said...

What a poignant poem - from a masterful poet.

I can imagine how difficult it is to fill the hours on those quiet days, be they Saturday or whatever. I hope that you can find a little routine which helps to break the day up for you.

We have had rain late afternoon, and again now, so I don't need to water round tonight. Just as well as I was exhausted (5 a.m. start again) and fell asleep on the sofa. I imagine the ground is gulping up this rainfall as it is so parched.

Bonnie said...

How nice to have an unexpected trip out for ice cream. A nice treat of summer. Thank you for recommending the Seamus Heaney poem. I agree with you. It was beautifully written. Enjoy your evening.

angryparsnip said...

So much going on in your life. Even one of your quiet day sound busy to me.
You have wonderful friends.
I will look up the poem now.

cheers, parsnip

The Weaver of Grass said...

Thanks to everyone for your comments. So pleased some of you looked at the Seamus Heaney poem. Apparently he never read it aloud at gatherings while his parents were alive. After they had died he included it in one of his readings in public and as he started to read it he noticed a man in the audience take hold of his wife's hand. He assumed that maybe they too had lost a child. Poignant story I thought.

Virginia said...

A very poignant poem. I felt that the boy had not had an opportunity to understand what had happened when he was greeted by the neighbour who took him home. Or perhaps it indicated that nothing can prepare a child for an unexpected death.


Librarian said...

For the first difficult time after my husband's death, I was grateful for being at work every day; it helped to be surrounded by my colleagues and talk to my customers all day. Saturdays were (and still are) usually busy with catching up on housework and shopping, and Sundays were for resting; also, I often went for walks with my sister or visited my parents.
Now that I live alone but have a partner 150 km away, weekends are even busier - I travel to his place or he to mine, and we always do nice things depending on the weather.
But of course my situation (losing my husband at 41 years of age, while still working) is very different than yours. I am glad you have that Sunday lunch arrangement with your friends, and your spontaneous trip to go for an ice cream is lovely!

thelma said...

I fell in love with Heaney with his archaeological verse found in 'North' in the 70s. Saturday is always a strange day, caught between a working week and a day of rest, I normally have a headache on Saturday.
Being sad is of course the opposite to feeling happy, yet we need both of course. In my widowed years I would often wake up thinking that my husband was somewhere else in the world and then the truth would hit me.

The Weaver of Grass said...

Interesting about thinking your husband was somewhere else in the world when you awoke Thelma. I usually think David is in bed by my side and put out my hand to touch him, only then realising that he is no longer there.