|London during the Blitz?|
January 12, 2021
Most of morning chores done and even braved the rain and wind to open the gates. Not just because it saves Himself from having to fool with them and high, strong, cold winds are strictly forbidden for COPD sufferers. It literally takes his breath away plus it is pretty steep trek on the way back up.
Cyclists use our drive to rest and turn around and flee from racing trucks and cars in the ferry rush. It is a narrow barely two-lane black top road just a few feet from a breathtaking drop down, down, down to rocks, then even further down, the beach.
I admire almost as much I envy the sturdy, hardy, silver-haired folks in the local cycle club, created from necessity by the Corona-19 virus. Even in the barely dawn dark, there they go! Several ladies stop and talk to me (holler over the waves and wind) one lady I particularly admire, joked about how some of "current events" remind her of going through WW II as a pret teen and teen. She lived in London and although some of her younger siblings were packed off to Ireland, she stayed with her mum and two older sisters.
So, since I have returned to the house, I have been pondering up this. Back when there was all the social and local getting togetherness, I loved listening to the people here that survived WW II, the Great Depression, the post war years and on. Of course, they all recall takes of the Great Spanish Flu Pandemic too.
An aside, her Welsh husband, he lavished praise upon me for my hardiness and cheerfulness during wet, wild, rainy, cold, raw, weather, and here I quote, " especially for an American."
Without even a hint of hesitation, I shook my head and laughed, "Sir, that's very sweet of you to say, but I love wild weather. Besides, I'm a Bluegrass girl" and actually called myself too, the county I'm from.
Just a few minutes to spare frittering away time here. Taken the maximum dose of Gravol, the seas are rough and hardy I may be, with absolutely no hint of SAD (Americans are always fussing about that, and several Swedes, Danes and Nordic people do not believe in any such thing!), I am no sailor. Not fond of being on boats at all. Visiting and then moving here, I learned how to manage my claustrophobia and fears on even big ferries but there must be doses of Gravol.
Today is a go to town day and it is time for the eight o'clock medications for my husband and second small breakfast, refilling all the bird feeders and then off to the ferry landing.
One small thing from this morning's chat with the cyclists, as I was listening to the Welshman talk, I kept thinking I could stand there a long time to just listen to his wonderful voice.
And funny thing, both he and his wife said to me, "Ohhhh, we could just listen to your lovely accent for hours!"
Such a sweet little spark to this morning.