All weather forecasts told us that the weather would be glorious today - but no. We woke up to grey skies, then heard thunder roll over the summer house and down poured the inevitable rain. Checking out the forecasts again they STILL announced blue skies and a mean blazing yellow sun in our area! What kind of a job is this - a meteorologist? If only I could have spent that many years on a degree, get paid an extortionate amount of wages and then just sit around the rest of my working life playing the guessing game! (Hmmm..... come to think of it, I did actually - when I worked as a foreign exchange analyst in a commercial bank. I was supposed to analyze which way the financial markets were heading. Mostly guessing though... and I know these analysts still do. They may call it technical analysis, but if it really worked the world would not be in the state it's in, would it? Oooo - digressions! Don't you just love them?)
Good thing then, that on a rainy day I can bury my nose in a page-turner. The above novel makes me laugh, sob, smile and reflect - as the written word should. The story of the aging man Harold Fry who walks from the south of England to the north to see his cancer-ridden friend and colleague Queenie again after twenty years, is both moving and heart wrenching but never sentimental. I love the simple, almost naivistic way Rachel Joyce writes, and in parts it reminds me of a film I love too - Being There with Peter Sellers, one of the last movies he made. Highly recommended - both the novel and the film! (Having said that I wouldn't be surprised if they make this novel into a movie. Mark my words!)
A week with visits from near and far has ended - all my daughters and granddaughters were here at the summer house - my daughter Julie who lives in Melbourne had one of her best Australian friends Ayla to stay, and with her was her travel companion Taylor. I met lovely Ayla last year when she travelled Europe with Julie and they both stayed with us in Bulgaria before they moved on to Istanbul (by bus!), Barcelona and Ibiza. Oh, it reminded me of my Inter-Rail days!
One of my best friends Tove came to visit at the same time as the Aussie girls, and as usual our conversations went on and on - deeply, humourously and incessantly - accompanied by walks, boat trips, good wine and food. I'm a wimp and a lazy sleep-in bum, whereas Tove went swimming in the sea every morning at dawn (well, "dawn" to me, late morning to her). I'm also a wimp in the boat - if I'm hit by a single drop of sea water I start whining and yelling "Turn around, go back!" Well, I may be exaggerating just a tiny bit now - and I do know how to drive our boat in fact - but I do prefer my boat to softly sway through untroubled waters and gently rolling breakers. But I'm never one to get sea sick at least!
Enjoying a boat trip on the Black Sea just two weeks ago
Because the weather was so bad today, and we were pretty much stuck inside, I stirred together a waffle batter for my granddaughters to make waffles. I don't think I've done this since my own kids played handball - when we occasionally (quite often in fact) had to be handball Mums & Dads and not only drive them everywhere to matches in halls on the other side of town in the early hours of a Sunday morning, but also had to produce and sell waffles, cakes, coffee and Cokes to other hungry parents when the matches were in our hall. Phew! Glad that's all in the past!
So off I go to aid the little girls in their waffle making - though the sun is out now and I'd rather sit in it with a glass of ice cold rosé.
At least the weather forecasters turned out to be right in the end. Pure luck, if you ask me.
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