I went to a Nadfas lecture this morning about mediaeval depictions of the Nativity. It was interesting, lots of research and knowledge and there was humour in the lecture too. Of course, it’s the funniest bits that remain with you.
One was the Book of Hours of Catherine of Cleves. Jesus in a baby walker
The other was a picture of Joseph with a sock and shoe off, with him intent on the sock, which he was busy making into Baby Jesus’s first baby grow. Just brilliant.
After that, i went down to the bank to get some papers copied and certified, ready to send off. It’s all so dismal. But I’m making progress, however slowly..
I don’t enjoy going to the lectures, because it’s something we did together. Much more painful for the survivor of a couple who did everything together, but quite hard enough. As I walked along the top of the market, past the Guildhall and down Exchange Street, I thought about family members who have died at home. My mother-in-law died in her bedroom, now half of Mel’s spare room. Our mother in Mel’s bedroom. Russell in my bathroom, in my arms. Tim in his Reading bedroom. I’m not afraid of the fact of death and being where someone has died is not something to fear. But the proximity of the death of someone you love is hard to live with and I cried as I walked along. On the way home, I filled the car with petrol – a garage halfway between Norwich and Yagnub not only has the cheapest fuel but is the only place I know where there’s a pump attendant. Then I stopped at the plant nursery and bought myself a bowl of pink hyacinths, a broom and a Christmas tree.
Of course, that meant I had to find a Christmas tree stand, which took a little while. We’ve got several, because Al used to use them to display his stock, but they’re randomly placed in barns and workshops. I had to buy a 6 foot tree as the smaller ones didn’t have a trunk that would go into a stand and I’d have had to saw off the bottom branches. I’d already thought I might put it in the dining room, and that’s got a high enough ceiling. So it’s waiting for a few more days to be decorated, because it’s nowhere near Christmas yet.
Then I fetched the wheelbarrow and shifted 4 bags of chicken feed at 20k each and one of dry cat food at 10 kilos. I potted up two azaleas, which need watering every day because they dry out so quickly and I don’t water daily in the winter, therefore they need more earth, so I don’t have to.
I’ve cried off a social do this weekend. I don’t want to go and I simply explained that. I neither want to tell people that Tim has died nor to receive sympathy from those who already know.
Anyway, back to Baby Jesus in his walker. Isn’t it just the best thing?