Deceptive Appearances

Orlaith Beth came in at 9lb 5oz.  She is expected home with her Mum today.

This morning I walked along Seamans Lane and through London Minstead to Shave Wood, turning right there and back to Minstead, emerging at Football Green whence I walked back home via the Village Shop where I bought tickets for tonight’s play at Minstead Hall.

Although there is still much colour in the forest, many deciduous trees are now almost devoid of leaves.  Their branches fan out, one, for example, tracing the outline of a Spanish senorita’s fully extended cooling accessory.

Driving along this route a couple of days ago our way had been blocked by six cattle, four of whom had their front halves buried in hedges, in the manner of the one pictured on 12th November.  Today I think I spotted the reason for the fascination of hedges.  Much of the land on the far sides of these hedges lies at a higher level, and the lazy cows don’t have to bend down for their fodder.  I assume the tag on the pictured animal’s ear indicates to which verderer this protected wanderer belongs.

Further on, Jackie had pointed out another primeval creature she had seen the day before.  The pony which had been grazing alongside this relic of pre-history seemed to have crossed the road and was now consorting with a giant Galapagos tortoise.

Leaving Minstead behind as I approached Castle Malwood Lodge I met the man I am due to impersonate on 1st December.  He was in civvies, of course.  He encouraged me to persevere with my less prolific growth and suggested I gave his picture the caption: ‘This is what I aspire to be’.

Early this evening the bed we bought yesterday was delivered by IKEA.  A next day delivery as promised went some way towards improving our feeling about the company.  All we have to do is assemble it.  Coincidentally, we learned from Becky that the wardrobe we left behind for her in Links Avenue has been collected by Mat and Ian.  Jackie and I had assembled that when we moved in there eighteen months ago.

It was touch and go whether we would be able to attend the performance of ‘Dish of The Day’ by Christine Woodhead, for which I had purchased tickets this morning, because we had to wait in for the deliverymen.  But we made it, after Jackie had produced a meal of omelettes and baked beans.  We finished the wines begun two days ago.

The performance was an hilarious one by the local Minstead Players.  The piece was well written, set in an Italian restaurant run solely by a woman clearly modelled on Julie Walters’ Mrs. Overall who did, indeed, turn out to be the cleaner.  The three tables were occupied by a couple with an elderly mother, three young women on a hen night, and a dating agency rendezvous.  One rather clever moment was when one person from each table simultaneously  received a call on their mobile phone, and the individual conversations fitted together as if they were all three speaking to each other.

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