Bluebells. Walks. Dancing. Some problems of modern society.

It’s that time of year again when the bluebells are suddenly everywhere. We walked our “forest path” the other day to check the progress of the bluebells there, deliberately including the part that goes past the rather ugly rear of the industrial estate. It’s a section to be avoided if it has rained a lot as that part of the path gets very squelchy, so much so that someone has put solid planks down at intervals to make stepping places. There are a couple of places farther up the hill towards Dobcross where you can go through a gap between houses - a ginnel, as they call them around here - and then down a steepish bit of hillside to join the forest path a little farther along. But as a rule some of the best bluebell patches are located before the first of these. So with some harrumphing on Phil’s part we followed the whole length of the path. However, it’s early days as yet and there were not many patches to be seen.

We have also done some fine evening walks around the village with some good photo opportunities.

 

Today I ran in reasonably early morning sunshine. When I went to hang out washing later, however, I discovered it was trying to rain on me. Now that the washing is draped around the house to dry indoors, the sun has returned. Of course. So it goes. 

All our family walks have influenced at least one of the older grandchildren. The 18 year old (“I’m officially an adult now!”) has a friend who has just passed her driving test and been rewarded with what I suspect might be a brand new car (quite wealthy parents who run a car hire company and like to indulge their offspring) and suggested going for a spin somewhere. Our 18 year old agreed and organised for them to park in our village and walk up the hill to Heights Church, quite a lengthy walk, one of our family adventure destinations and one of the 18 year old’s favourite places on the world at the moment. 

To me, and seemingly to our 18 year old, it makes a lot more sense than jumping up and down to dumphy-dumph “music” in a crowded night club and calling it dancing. Don’t get me wrong, I have always liked to dance - indeed I still do and it is not unheard of for me to dance in the kitchen - but what I saw in the TV news reports of the experimentally opened night club in Liverpool was not dancing! But no doubt the same was said about rock ‘n’ roll and jive and so on. And good for Liverpool for doing that experiment from which we all should benefit. Fingers crossed for good outcomes!

Further to my comments on the cost of replacing life-threatening cladding on blocks of flats and the Johnson flat refurbishment, yesterday I saw this on social media:

“It cost the same to refurbish Boris Johnson’s flat as it would have done to put sprinklers in Grenfell. Let that sink in.”

And yesterday I came across this rather depressing article about how parents of black children talk to their offspring about the police. Probably saddest was this section about a six year old child. 

“‘We assured him that he had a long life ahead of him and reminded him that most police officers are there to help’

My brother is six years old, and he actually is the one who explained it to us. Yesterday, when exchanging I love yous and good nights, we told the six-year-old how handsome and sweet and perfect he is, then sent him to bed. As he turned off the light, he said: “Remember me after I die!” We called him back into the room and asked him to repeat himself. “Remember me after I die,” he said again. “After the police shoot me, I’m going to die.” Of course, we did what any family would. We assured him that he had a long life ahead of him and reminded him that most police officers are there to help. It was hard to hear. I almost cried, because we could not even tell him that it wasn’t a possibility. Anonymous; Virginia; eldest of seven children ages two to 24.”

Now, I know our UK six year olds might not have that fear but, oh, what a sad indictment of modern society!

I leave you with that thought. 

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!