You may - or may not - realise this but there are occasions when I simply can't think what on earth to write about in the Daily Blog. Those are the days when I witter on about the conversations I have overheard / eavesdropped
upon while travelling in the Pulse bus to or from town. Or when I recount the latest arboricultural lesson from our choir conductor, the Redoubtable Muriel, complete with tricky tongue twisting words which will test out our pronunciation of our consonants.
Occasionally I have recourse to the store of anecdotes from the days when My Foursome were littl'uns. If all else fails, well, then I ask Faris the Rascal to write the Daily Blog.
Then there are the weeks when so much happens that lots of interesting events - as in, interesting to me, you understand, I wouldn't presume to assume you will find them all interesting - that there isn't room to write about them all. You may think
this is no great loss but you see the Daily Blog is my on-line diary so, if it is to be a true account of My Life And Times I simply can't leave things out.
have read about my Nantastic Birthday Celebration on Sunday, of course. But Sunday was followed by Monday (it usually is, in my experience) and because my lovely sister and her fella had stayed overnight, they were able to accompany me to Birdy Group. I had
extolled their Bird Spotting Abilities to our group leader, the Lovely Linda, as justification for asking if they could tag along though I am not sure this was strictly necessary, Linda being of the laissez-faire fraternity. She even picked us all up from
home, there being room in her car in the absence of Brave Pam and Scottish Christine.
My guests proved their worth, I reckon, never more so than towards
the end of our morning when my sister identified the song of a chaffinch in a tree above our heads. Try as we might, we couldn't spot it until Baz came along (we had mislaid him somewhere between the Chalk Garden and the Rose Garden) and immediately pointed
out our songbird, posing beautifully for our delectation. It had been a morning notable for swifts, swallows and skylarks - not to mention the occasional kestrel and buzzard. Our Birdy Group, said my brother-in-law, is rather more informal than the one he
and my sister belong to, but most enjoyable. My sister liked meeting the people she has grown to know through the Blog. "You must be Tall Margaret!" she greeted one of our number. I wonder how she knew?
Similarly I have recounted the story of my wonderful Birthday Afternoon Tea with the Youngest of the Darling Daughters - but I haven't filled you in on the events of my birthday morning. My gift of a beautiful watch from Mr
B who, unable to shop himself, had called upon the services of the Middle of the Darling Daughters as his own personal shopper. "Love you muchly" reads the inscription on the back, which is how we used to sign off those letters we wrote to each other every
day in the years of our early long-distance courtship.
Nor have I told you how many tears I cried over the poem from my sister Maggie about our childhood. When
the mauve pages floated out of the birthday card, I expected it would be one of my brother-in-law's famous verses - I didn't expect such a personal recollection of the days "When you were Jacky, and I was Margy."
I haven't told you, either, about our Nomination Whist group where we celebrated my birthday all over again with some fizzy stuff and a home-made cake. You're right, where celebrations are concerned,
I am just so very greedy.
Then there was the little matter of the General Election. Don't worry, the Daily Blog strives to be a-political so the only electoral
disaster I am going to tell you about is that encountered by Mr B when we went to vote, he on his mobility scooter, I chugging along behind like one of the minority parties, anxious to be reckoned with, come what may. The polling station was advertised as
"accessible" and Mr B's scooter did just about fit in the lift to the first floor where our votes were to be cast. Unfortunately, backing out of said lift, the scooter had an Unfortunate Collision with a wall. The scooter, sadly, came off the worse of the
"It's the cost of democracy!" I explained to the Party Faithful waiting at the exit to collect our polling cards. One of them expressed cheery sympathy -
but it was too little, too late because I had already voted for somebody else. He would never know, I suppose, that he had missed out.
At least you, my regular
readers, haven't missed out on the Inside Story of the last week. Told in glorious technicolour.