Have you ever had that horrible feeling on opening, say, the dish-washer and realising that, not only has it not washed anything up but there is a nasty, sludgy pool of water lurking in the bottom?
That is what happened to me this morning. I was not a Happy Bunny. I immediately went into “Woe Is Me” mood. Not only were we going to have to replace the dish-washer,
at enormous expense and inconvenience, but probably all the other kitchen appliances on the basis that they were all installed at the same time and would now all, to a man (or, at least, to a machine) be approaching the End of Their Useful Lives. After which,
being the practical type, I started emptying the dish-washer, washing up all the dirty crockery, and using an old mug to decant the sludgy water from the bottom of our appliance.
We didn't have a dishwasher for years and years. I always maintained that I didn't really mind washing up, all those bubbles, don't you know? I wasn't so fond of drying up, to be fair. I understand that even The Queen always insistrs on wielding
the dish mop, in preference to the tea towel and if it’s good enough for Her Maj then it is surely good enough for Humble Old Me. However, I do have to admit that when we actually took possession of a dishwasher (yes, the self-same machine standing uselessly
in my kitchen as I write) I came to realise, pretty quickly, that it had hidden powers. Chief among these was its ability to make the kitchen look beautifully clear, even when I hadn’t tackled the washing-up.
Tucked away inside might be all manner of dirty dishes – but you’d never know from looking round the kitchen. (Well, provided you were prepared to ignore Mr B’s collection of coffee paraphernalia and my collection
of old newspapers. Mr B would say that at least his coffee does have a place in a kitchen, unlike my newspapers. I’m not about to argue with him, on the basis that one should never sweat the small stuff, there being plenty of meatier matters to
The Youngest of the Darling Daughters washes all her dishes before she puts them in the dishwasher. I can only imagine this is because she
has Serious Trust Issues. At least, where machines are concerned. I never try to fill her dishwasher with dirty dishes because I know she will take them all out and re-arrange them. It’s easier to cope with the sink and suds.
Now, I do realise (though you are far too polite to say so) that you are contemplating on the fact that I have written 473 words of complete and utter drivel. You might not have estimated
how many words of drivel exactly, of course, but then I have the advantage of a word count on the bottom bar of my Word program. What you almost certainly won’t know is that this drivel has been especially written in memory of my lovely friend Eve.
Yesterday was Eve’s funeral. “A Life Less Ordinary” – those were the words on the front of the Order of Service, underneath a lovely picture
which was just as I will remember her. Inside, lovely photographs of Eve as a little girl and a young woman. Because she was more or less the same age as me, the hair style and clothes were all more than a little reminiscent of my own younger self. For
each of us, tucked inside the Order of Service, a book-mark bearing her photograph to remember her by.
Eve was the founder of the Worthing Girls who meet up to
enjoy sea-front walks, Sunday lunches, bus trips, games evenings, book club meetings. You name it, we gathered – all thanks to Eve. All you had to do was to check out the Girls’ website, look at the “Meets” planned for the
following week or so and say if you were planning to come. The Girls was Eve’s legacy and oh, how we thank her for it.
Eve’s funeral was not listed
among the forthcoming “Meets” but over 100 of us turned up anyway. The service was all planned by Eve herself and, as we walked into the Chapel at Worthing Crematorium, it was to the tune of “Here Come the Girls!” Trust Eve.
We sang hymns to a guitar accompaniment and touching tributes were read. I was glad of the company of my friend Eleanor, knowing that on the way home in her car we would
be able to talk about how we felt – about Eve, about life and the Hereafter.
Eve loved my Daily Blog. She used to introduce me to new people by saying: “This
is Jaqui. She writes an amazing blog – it’s complete and utter drivel, of course - but...” I always felt that little word "but" was rather important..
Dear Eve – I have no idea if the world wide web extends into the After Life but I like to think you are up there, sitting on a cloud, chuckling over my latest bit of drivel.
Written just for you.