There was a man...

I loved him.

All the men in the pub, including my man knew of my love.

It is funny in life when you meet a kindred spirit, he was exactly that.

I best explain...

Dave used to come into the pub with a gang of, not to put too fine a point on it...

old duffers.  Loud and highly intellectual they to a man, were full of vim and vigour and a joy to be with.  Dave with his long grey hair was set apart.  An ex public school teacher who was the butt of their affectionate jokes. The reason, he was very deaf.  He would sit missing most of what went on around him, quite content sinking real ale and imbibing the general bonhomie.  All my life I have been an old man’s darling, now I have joined their ageing ranks, nothing much has changed!

Dave and I sealed our new found 
love with the age old custom of giving and receiving gifts.  His to me, the badge with an ear on to denote his disability.  Mine to him my head girls badge.  On seeing this he said 

‘I can’t take that, it is precious!’

My reply 

‘Think about it Dave, am I honestly Head girl material?’

On considering it for a moment he graciously accepted.  Our love was sealed for all to see with our love tokens clapped proudly on our chests.  No man dared to come between us.

We talked, as best we could

‘I enjoy talking to you, you 
enunciate so well!’

Who knew!?!

Sadly this week he died.

Four years ago he was told he had six weeks to live.  He determined then to enjoy what time he had left, drinking, loving and making merry.

I miss him, a good dear man.

Call me prejudice...

I don’t care...

I really can’t abide geraniums.

Dahlias top the list of flowers I really really can’t abide, due in no small part to probably the richest boyfriend I ever had continuing to cough up 50p for a bunch of maroon jobbies.  Dahlias themselves are appalling in my humble opinion, however maroon takes them to a whole new level of awfulness!  The bloke, bit the dust along with the immortal words 

‘I suggest you artfully arrange them where the sun don’t shine!’ 

That bit is a fib, however he was given his marching orders in short shrift.

Decking is another pet hate, why would anyone take the trouble to level perfectly good soil to lay dead trees on?  And worse than that run the risk of slipping on the wet deck and breaking their 

neck?

Net curtains... knitted man-made fibre, to grace suburban homes.    

Only good I can see is for folk who enjoy an occasional twitch!

Faux orchids... why?

Alright I will be the first to acknowledge real ones are tricky until with patience you find their happy place.  Then they flower for absolutely blooming yonks.  Next comes the phase that is hard, especially for one such as me with veins pumping impatience as I wait for them to re-flower.  Boy is it worth the perseverance, and the excitement as you have completely 

forgotten what colour they are! 

Do you think I need to get out more...?

Just had a thought...

I love the folk who take the time out to comment, I like their honesty, their views on the sometimes wacky things that float my particular boat.

Of late I have been a tad flat, so much so my blogging juices have all but dried up.  My fun thoughts have bogged oft leaving me glum!

This is my latest interior design idea...

The wonderful oars I bought with the intention to use as a handrail down the stairs, magically by my powers of artistical excellence... (modest, I ain’t!)

have metamorphised into curtain rails! 

Now if there is one thing that I personally think as naff, it is the seaside niknackery that many coastal homes get decked out with.

However the oars strangely enough are excused my scorn... could it be I idly wonder, because it is my amazing idea?

My latest love...

a chair, not any old chair, a rather special chair as you can see!  
Man has given up asking where my latest treasure will go for fear of my showing him!?!
I saw it in the window of my favourite shop in Hythe.  Stood forlorn with its back to the window, a shy and retiring little number.  The moment I clapped eyes on it my heart flew out of my chest.  I was all for camping in the doorway in case anyone else would beat me to it?  Himself assured me that probably not many folk in Hythe would fall as madly, deeply as I had done!?!  Dragging me home, my heels making track marks in the pavement to equal the rails on the 
Romney, Hythe and Dymchurch 
railway.  I know you will have to use a little imagination here as how can deep troughs rival tracks? You get my drift, I’m sure!
Not so sure you will see the beauty in the chair though and no, in answer to your unspoken question I don’t plan to do anything with it other than park my bott in it!