Tim’s Rock

Tim’s brother and sister-in-law are having a few days in East Angular and came to stay here last night. Lovely to see them, of course, we had a convivial evening. We went for a walk this morning, over the fields to Jonny’s farm, so they could buy some of his Baron Bigod cheese from the vending machine.

Tomorrow, I’m off to the Pembrokeshire caravan. I can’t pretend I’m looking forward to it, I think it will be lonely and emotional, but I can’t duck out of it. Joseph, who manages the site, has organised a gas safety check and service and I’m going to phone and ask him if he’ll kindly turn on the water, gas and heating on for me. i have instructions on how to do it, but I won’t arrive until the evening and I certainly don’t want to have to call for help if I get it wrong.

I’m catching up on various bits and pieces today and Wink and I just went to fill the chickens’ feed hopper. I realised that I was using the last bag of corn and I’ll get back over the bank holiday weekend, so I’ll have to go and buy more tomorrow before I leave, because 10 days is as long as a bag lasts. If I don’t have time, Wink can do it for me, but I’ll try to manage.

I’ve been putting off one task for as long as I could. I’d decided to take some of Tim’s ashes with me, to put on his favourite rock, which he loved to climb as a small boy. When I brought his casket home with me last autumn, I discovered that it wasn’t possible to lift the lid, the only way of opening it was to turn it upside down and undo six screws, then lift off the base. So I finally did it this afternoon. It was solemn, I have to admit and I felt quite tearful, though I didn’t cry. I found a small jar that used to contain herbs and have sealed it with additional sticky tape so that there’s no risk he’ll spill in my bag. I thought the ashes would be darker, but they’re pale grey. Once I’m home again, I’ll speak to the Rector about burying him in the churchyard. There’s room next to Russell, who is in a double depth grave, ready for me. I’ll leave it to my children to decide how to word the gravestone, in due course. I find that thought amusing.

I just had a WhatsApp from my business partner, who had a cataract operation this afternoon. I hadn’t realised that the eye patch you wear afterwards is clear, so he can see through the new lens. He says the sight in that eye is still a little blurred, but not out of focus. Isn’t it wonderful, how good the operation is now? He was in the clinic for a couple of hours, but the op itself only took ten minutes and they say he should be able to drive within ten days.

Unless things have changed since last August, internet reception at the caravan is poor, so I won’t blog much for a while. I have quite a lot to get ready before I go – there’s a duvet and pillows there, but we brought the bedding home to wash, so I’ll have to take it, as well as towels etc. Tim has a list, I must look it out. I really don’t want to go, but I suspect I’ll find it less of an ordeal than I anticipate. I always do my worrying in plenty of time, then I’m okay when the event arises.

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