Friday, 31 May 2013


It’s official. This has been the coldest spring since 1962. It must be true; I heard it on the BBC news. I can’t say I remember the spring of 1962. I was too busy being a teenager. Anyway, this spring has officially been cold. We knew that already, of course, but I suppose it’s good to have things confirmed. 

Today by contrast dawned bright and sunny and at 8.30 I was out running in the sunshine. I had been woken a little earlier by insistent knocking on our front door. Strangely, people ignore the doorbell which resounds nicely through the house; they either tap gently on the ridiculously small doorknocker or bang furiously on the door itself. And so I was woken by the aforementioned insistent knocking. 

 I opened the door to find a delivery man with a parcel: a replacement electronic gadget for one which had proved faulty. It was very good to get such prompt service but we had been told by the manufacturers that it would be delivered between 9 and 5. Consequently I was not expecting it at just after 8 o’clock. When I pointed this out to the delivery chappie, he told me he didn’t know why they had said that as he had been told to deliver before 10. They couldn’t give a precise time, he explained, because it all depended on how many other deliveries he had to make en route to us. A clear case of one bit of the firm not talking to the other. 

Still, his early arrival meant that I had the rest of the day free, at least until the grandchildren are parked here for babysitting purposes later this afternoon. 

The cold spring has not prevented bargees getting out and about on the canal. I seem to be collecting members of the family in barge form. My daughter started it some time ago when she saw a barge called Phyllis May, my mother’s name. It turns out that this is a well travelled narrowboat; this photo shows it returning from the Gulf of Mexico. I never even knew narrowboats could go out to sea. I suppose we should have felt honoured that it was on our bit of canal. 

Then last week I came across the Patricia, clearly named for my sister and just in time for me to send her the picture for her birthday. 

Yesterday it was the turn of my older sister. There it was, the Lady Carole, rather selfishly blocking most of the width of the canal. It must have been imperfectly moored andone end had floated out. Goodness knows what would have happened if another boat had come along. 

 I wonder if I’ll see any other family members on my rambles. 

As for me, I’ve already been a shop in Sanxenxo, photographed a couple of summers ago. 

They tell us that summer starts this weekend. Apparently, March, April and May are the months of spring and so summer begins on June 1st. 

Someone needs to tell the weatherman.

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