Photo by Agnieszka K. at Stock Xchng

Not an hour ago I was throwing notes into a future post, tying up a “sunshine” theme with Gia’s photographs, the British weather (Wimbledon day one = rain, rain and more rain) and people who bring sunshine into our lives.

Then I got an email from Stu(art) with the dreadful news that Meg died this weekend.

Meg was one of the kindest, most generous and giving people on the planet. Like Stu, we had the odd “heated discussion” on US politics (heh, the quickest way to wind Meg up was to post something rapidly anti-shrub, especially if you weren’t even American) but it never got in the way of our mutal admiration society and I will always treasure the honour of a spot on the House of Mandarin Quilt.

How can we become so attached to people we haven’t met in real life? I don’t know. But I do know that Meg will be missed by many across the world.

Here’s a poem by David Harkins that I think Meg would have loved.

She is gone

You can shed tears that she is gone,
or you can smile because she has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she’ll come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all she’s left.
Your heart can be empty because you can’t see her,
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her only that she is gone,
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind,
be empty and turn your back.
Or you can do what she’d want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

My sympathies to Meg’s family and friends across the world.

Actually it’s someone from the National Grid Metering who have announced an urgent need to install a replacement meter. Hmm.

Anyway, it suddenly dawned on me that I’d best clear the glory hole under the stairs so that s/he can actually reach the gas meter. Much huffing and puffing, coughing and sneezing later and my booty* has been moved to temporary homes (behind the sofa, behind the chair and up in the office) but in one of life’s little coincidences, the clearout uncovered a box of Sainsbury’s Luxury Shortbread biscuits with an imminent best buy date.

Looks like a biccie-binge is in order then. Anyone for a cuppa?

* A much missed extension lead, a clock that needs fixing, a couple of metres of patterned fleece to make doggie sleeping bags, the foot pedal for the sewing machine, a large jar of now defunct Belgian/French francs, Dutch guilders and Italian lira, a foot spa.

Temperatures suddenly up in the high twenties, birds singing, fish a-leaping so I’ve taken the day off to lie in the garden with a long tall glass of iced water, a notepad and pen and a printout of the first chapter of CSS Mastery clean like fury in preparation for a weekend visit from two people I’ve never met, eeek! (friends of Martyn).

So I can’t sit and ask Polly to say silly things in various languages then. No, but you can!

Here’s what had us giggling:

Oh [your name], voulez-vouz coucher avec moi, ce soir?

Ça plane pour moi Hou! Hou! Hou! Hou!

Watch her face as she does this one!

Niet lachen? Dat is het ergste wat je kunt overkomen!

Oh and try typing text in one language but set the “Speak” language to another. Endless amusement for the sillier elements of the population (ouais, c’est moi).

If you’re also having a silly session and find a cracker of a phrase for Polly to say, come tell us about it, please! Rescue me from this drudgery!

Enough of this Friday silliness, I’m off to spray lavender oil gently in the guest room desperately raid the airing cupboard for a spare set of sheets.

His first week and a picture in the making.

Bored with babies? That’s okay, get thee hence to David’s Flickr pages. Wonderful shots of China, the words are here.

We were having too much fun admiring the new baby and the newly renovated house to take many pictures but as promised, I’ve uploaded a few photos of the new arrival. Better ones to follow.

9lb 6oz (4.4 kb) - “a long body with massive hands”, according to his papa. Thank you all for your wishes and Ed, pictures to follow as soon as I see him. His mother had quite a time of it at the hospital and needs a day or two to recover so (eeek!) we’re not rushing over there until tomorrow.

He does indeed have a name: think of a famous British actor, sadly remembered more for his boozing and womanizing than his screen performances. For the more erudite, think of a 17th century English soldier and politician.

At 22:02 BST. He’s not been weighed yet but mother and “big bouncing baby boy” are doing well.

Our first grandson (step in my case) was due to enter this world on the 18th of April. It’s just past midnight on 1 May. Methinks he has inherited his father’s timekeeping skills.

A meme.

List ten things you want to say to people you know but you never will, for whatever reason. Don’t say who they are. Use each person only once.*

Now don’t go rolling your eyes up to heaven before you try it. It’s remarkably therapeutic. In fact, I’ve got a little text file sitting on my desktoop right now with all the things I’m never saying. Starting with my infant class teacher who thought that left-handedness was a sign of the devil.

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“Is there such a condition?“, I wondered as I rubbed my posterior this morning. We had a long and leisurely Sunday lunch with friends yesterday and although their dining chairs are padded and comfy, we spent too many hours sat in the conservatory putting the world to rights before moving back to the sofas for a final chinwag.

Ever keen to inform and share I set to work with a friendly search engine.

There’s tennis elbow, housemaid’s knee (or prepatellar bursitis), jeep bottom - - woah! Jeep bottom? Let’s ask Dr Myhill:

Jeep bottom - pain over the seat bones as a result of bouncing around on a hard jeep seat (a problem in North Africa in the Second World War!)

But no mention of diner’s bottom. Still, I’m hoping that a hot bath and liberal application of Ibugel will sort it otherwise I’m in for another uncomfotable night’s sleep tonight.