In amongst the torrential rain, it was a lovely weekend at the end of a busy old week. On Friday, I popped over to see Mum & Dad, on the Isle of Wight, for what maybe the last time that I’ll head there before they move house in the Autumn. They are coming to Dorchester, to be nearer Charlie and me, and to my brothers. (More on the new place another time, perhaps). That moment in life is never easy – and I’d say it’s been pretty intense for them – making the decision to uproot after twenty years on the Island and return to Dorset – where we’d lived for twenty years before that. On Friday evening, it was their leaving party for all their friends – an amazing gathering of so many fine people. Rather than feeling sad at their departure, it was a celebration of a great two decades. You start to see life in cycles at moments like this, and, as I said on the evening, the Island’s loss is our gain – really.
And then early on Saturday I set off home because we had a houseful… Charlie’s angels, as I like to call them (famous from the ‘best ever blog‘). I collected Angie from the station on my way, and we got home as it started to pour, and pour, and pour. All afternoon. There was nothing else for it but a long trip to the pub for pints and fish and chips. We rolled home for afternoon sleeps followed by cocktails followed by Prosecco followed by wine followed by a delicious dinner cooked by Charlie followed by games of Articulate and whisky drinking long into the night. I didn’t feel on such top form this morning, but at least after the storms of the night before the sun was shining. Breakfast cured all ills.
Charlie’s garden has gone completely mad, but so beautiful. I love how it shifts and changes week by week – as new colour combinations, accidental or intentional, present themselves in the borders.
Our huge Jasmine climbing up the wall has blown down. We’ll get it back up this week but it made the porch highly fragrant and rather picturesque.
Charlie’s dahlia border has gone mad, and it’s not even August.
Rows of onions finishing up the veg garden. The Melplash show is beginning to loom on the horizon.
We went for a walk, just the circuit up over the hills….
Is it just me, or is there the tiniest shift, a hint, of autumn in the air?
God how I love the high places of West Dorset. Nothing better to clear the mind.
Walking through the barley field;
Like walking through a silvery watercolour by Ravilious.
That last dahlia – the odd white petal in the yellow – is my complete favourite. Amazing. I’ll get details from C.
Weekends with good friends whizz by all too quickly; we made our way to the pub in Puncknowle, The Crown Inn, which I could not recommend more highly if you’re after completely straightforward but delicious pub food with no crowds. Oh dear, ruined that one. But, just saying. Poor old Puncknowle had their village fete in the deluge yesterday afternoon, but I am sure it was in as jolly spirits as last year, when we went with Bridie in scorching sunshine.
Then it was time to say goodbye. The girls left and Angie and I drove up to London, leaving Charlie and Mavis and Henry in Dorset – for a few days of gardening and writing. It feels too quiet in London tonight.