Not untypical: a week after Spring begins, with trees budding
enthusiastically and birds twittering excitedly, and it snows. Big,
thick, sticky snowdrops which have already deposited an inch or more on
the ground and on the upper parts of all the trees’ branches. (Pretty
effect, that).
“Raining, it’s pouring,” as Lola puts it. An awful lot of Lola’s output
is musically oriented. Dunno where that comes from.
Lola has come on a bit since my last post. (Not a surprise given the
long expanse of silence since then: what a bad biographer.) She’s
talking a lot: just now, she managed to tell me the story of how monkey
got his foot wet and dirty in a puddle on the way back from the
library.
We spent Christmas in Somerset and visited again for Easter. Lola got
very excited about going at Easter — it was great to see evidence of
the fixing of all those neural pathways. You could tell her we were
going down to see i nonnie (or Grandma and Grandpa) and she’d be off,
talking excitedly about the beach, Lucy, the Choo-choos…
Easter was tinged with sadness, as we sad good bye to Lucy for the last
time: the day after we left, Mum and Dad took her to the Blue Cross
centre where she’ll wait for a new owner who can offer the kind of home
she needs. I guess Lola isn’t going to take it in until she next visits,
at which point the memory may have faded a little, anyway. Mum had a
really hard time, though, and was very upset. It’s not often I wish I
were a farmer but this is one occasion where I’d happily have been one
so that we could have taken on Lucy.
Anyway, must get on with preparing for lunch with Vanessa, Tallulah and
Eoin; we’re having lots of Moorish (and, we hope, more-ish) stuff, most
of which we cooked last night, but enough of which still remains…
More later, I hope.