Sunday, January 22, 2012
The noise of gunfire and battle!
An afternoon of noise - gunfire, screaming, tension and battle!
It was another session of the sportshall athletics league.
I looked after the time keepers - Bill and David and June (another married couple).
David is nearly 90 and still very much involved with life; I will forgive him a few lapses in concentration - we all have those.
The afternoon is fun and hard work. We have one more of these meetings this winter.
Crawley boys were triumphant and the Crawley girls were just beaten by a strong Horsham team.
The morning, at home, was leisurely.
Tea in bed, breakfast late.
I got much of what was on the dining room table cleared - and then put a pile of ephemera (much Festival of Britain stuff) back on the table.
But I can see the end of this task - maybe even during this week.
Now for a roast dinner and a Sunday evening relax with the TV. I enjoyed the series Midwives, which began last week based on the autobiography of a young midwife's time in the East End of London in the early 1950s.
It is hard to realise how historical and primitive the times of my own life time can seem.
It was another session of the sportshall athletics league.
I looked after the time keepers - Bill and David and June (another married couple).
David is nearly 90 and still very much involved with life; I will forgive him a few lapses in concentration - we all have those.
The afternoon is fun and hard work. We have one more of these meetings this winter.
Crawley boys were triumphant and the Crawley girls were just beaten by a strong Horsham team.
The morning, at home, was leisurely.
Tea in bed, breakfast late.
I got much of what was on the dining room table cleared - and then put a pile of ephemera (much Festival of Britain stuff) back on the table.
But I can see the end of this task - maybe even during this week.
Now for a roast dinner and a Sunday evening relax with the TV. I enjoyed the series Midwives, which began last week based on the autobiography of a young midwife's time in the East End of London in the early 1950s.
It is hard to realise how historical and primitive the times of my own life time can seem.
