Popping up again.….
just when you breathed a sigh of relief and thought I’d disappeared.…




Good morning everyone, I’m back. I genuinely hadn't realised it's been a month since I've written my Substack. Where does time, life and bits go. I have no idea. I have been a lurker, enjoying my regular Substacks and checking out notes. I came across a new one to me. Monica Hebert, The Daily Rewire and a lot of what she wrote in Apparently we were all tired of self improvement that struck a chord.
Yes, I do some self improvement and learn a great deal from many wise people on Substack. However, after 67 years I've realised you can't improve on perfection. The head rabbit 🐇 has just popped his head up in absolute incredulity, fallen off whatever he was standing and disappeared again he was laughing so much. I will amend that statement. After 67 years what's the point, the damage is irreparable. Please before you all shout at me ‘you're never too old’, both those statements are tongue in cheek. I have got here - 67 I have changed, I am a writer - of sorts. Thank you Monica Hebert you got me writing again this sunny, and ridiculously hot Monday morning. Don't forget I'm a moaning Minnie from the UK, the weather is never right. In my defence last week I put the heater on in the evening it was so cold and we had frosts.
Where have I been? You won't be thinking. It's been a good few weeks, with the odd down days. I had a fabulous few days last week with a lovely friend. Humphrey, mainly & Mildred partly, by winding him up, totally disgraced themselves. We had already agreed that the dogs would be too much and made alternative overnight arrangements, but she was not prepared for, as she put it, the pony that is Humphrey jumping up with ball 🎾. He is big and exceedingly bouncy, and unfortunately not used to people coming into my hobbit home. Therefore we spent the few days out and about the Hertfordshire countryside, good food, great company. Whilst I felt guilty about not being able to provide bed & breakfast, it did work out very well..…..I hope.
On one day we visited my son. Easy you would think, they only live 6 miles away. Doing my usual old age Lewis Hamilton round the country lanes we come to a junction, I am about to turn right when I spy the dreaded Road Closed ⛔ sign with no detail. The trailer in front of me indicated left and stopped mid turn - another Road Closed ⛔, this time with barriers. The driver got out scratched his head when a traffic person appeared, they also looked puzzled. I risked it and turned right, thinking they can't cut off the village completely. To cut a long story short at every junction there were road closed signs with no proper indication of where, why or alternative routes. Luckily I know the roads like the back of my hand. Nonetheless, it took 40 minutes to do a 10 minute journey, along roads I may know, but they’re so narrow, if you come across a sheep that doesn't, you're in trouble. I later found out the diversion was 14 miles and with all the other diversions likely to be pot luck if you manage to find the right route.
My friend met Bonnie, see above, now happily living in her new home, a local pub run by my son’s girlfriend. She maybe smaller than my two but is as much of a character. A few weeks ago new signs anonymously appeared outside the pub - see above. Bonnie decided she needed to say hello to a customer and his dog. Problem, she was upstairs looking out of the window and they were outside in the high street. Clearly, not a problem for Bonnie, she opened the window and jumped. The only damage was a slight cut on her chin, a dog with 120 lives. Now all windows have to be closed, locked, alarmed, steel bars fitted and wire mesh stretched across them. Bonnie will need to find a new activity, or they need to buy her a parachute. My son when he left for pastures new was convinced he could find a Bonnie proof kitchen bin. I had my doubts, the result can be seen above. I doubt even a modern safe would deter Bonnie from a prized morsel of food.
Another day, we went to the Henry Moore Studios & Gardens. The grounds are stunning and if you visit with children plenty of room for them, and you, to let off steam, with studios and barns dotted around. The Aisled Barn houses stunning, and vast, tapestries of Henry Moore’s work. The sculptures outside change every year as many are loaned out. One of my favourite’s, the scissor handles, was missing because of an exhibition at Kew Gardens quote: for what is the largest ever presentation of outdoor artworks by Moore. We took the tour round Hoglands, Moore’s family home - a fascinating insight into Moore and for me very nostalgic. Would you leave a Rodin sculpture, even if small, on your coffee table? I definitely recommend a visit, finished off with lunch at the recently reopened Hoops.
Later that evening we went to see Lenny Henry in Hertford at the local theatre. He was fantastic and at 67, the same age as me, I know you already know that, but I could relate to a lot of his stories/jokes and remembered Tiswas and all the characters from his shows.
I'll stop boring you now and put my feet in a bucket of iced water.
Prompt:
Find a photo of your favourite painting, sculpture or other art work. Really look at it for a couple of minutes:
In a paragraph describe how this art work makes you feel?
Thank you so much for reading my pondering and a mahoosive thank you to all of my subscribers for sticking with my eclectic, eccentric rambles down the rabbit warren 🐇, fox 🦊 dens, badger 🦡 sets and otter 🦦 holts.
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Love the image of you as an ‘old age Lewis Hamilton’! 👏👏👏
Great post! 😘
She's defying all the odds and life sounds like fun with all their antics 😅😘