The weathermen have been so gushing about what the weather is going to do for the next two or three days (before becoming winter again just in time for Easter) that I keep looking out of the window expecting miracles (we are above six hundred feet in the Yorkshire Dales and it is gusty and windy) but so far no sign of anything at all like that. This morning it is so gusty that I watched out for the Post Lady coming and then asked her if she would take a letter to the postbox for me. Both our postmen are so good and always oblige. I just dare not cross the road with Priscilla until the wind dies down. (The Post box is directly opposite my window). The sky is a uniform grey and the patio is wet. I am afraid it will be another day of exercises rather than walking unless there is a dramatic change.
John (Going Gently) speaks today of favourite places. I think we all have places which are dear to the heart but I don't think that necessarily means we would wish to go back there. In fact my view is that it is never a good idea to go back to where one has lived before and live there again. Places change, people change. I thought of this yesterday afternoon when my dear friend J, who still lives in the village where we both lived as children, rang for a chat as she often does, bless her heart. We are both in our late eighties - in fact she is ninety in mid December. Thank goodness we still both have our marbles intact so we can (and do) reminisce about 'the old days' but that is as far s it goes. Other than that we have lived apart all of our lives and had totally different experiences. This is why, when my first husband and I retired, we chose to come up to The Yorkshire Dales rather than return to Lincolnshire.
I have now lived up here for thirty three years and yet I still don't consider myself 'a local' and I am sure the locals feel like that about me too. My lovely carer was born within five miles of here and has lived all of her fifty odd years in and around that radius. If I mention anyone local she has either been in the same class at school with them (or their brother), has worked with them, her knowledge of the locals is huge. I can still remember people I was at school with as I am sure you can - but not necessarily the history of the locals to here. I really don't know which is better - to stay in one place all one's life or to travel around, to holiday on the local coast every year or to travel the world. And does it really matter which one does? Whichever life style we choose, all our knowledge and experience dies with us doesn't it? This was brought home to me most strongly when both my first and second husbands died.
Another post ends dear bloggy friends. A zoom with my friends who have recently moved to Grange over Sands this afternoon. Before long, all being well Covid-wise, we might be able to meet again. Wrap up well - you can always cast a clout if that elusive sun does actually finally come out.
It is now Tuesday morning. This post has not appeared on my page but my son tells me it has appeared on his - with comments. I am adding this and trying again in the hopes that it appears.