Before Ellie was born, Becky knitted her a matching jerkin to one she had knitted for Jackie. Yesterday Flo photographed them, with her daughter also wearing her contrasting pumpkin hat.
Today Dillon photographed me with his daughter in my arms.
This morning’s steady drizzle increased its speed in time for our trip to the Recycling Centre to dispose of a carload of dripping bags of soggy garden refuse with a few clinging slugs thrown in.
Under progressive new management strict rules now apply to what was once known as the dump. Those who have managed to register in time “for free” need to make an appointment, also on line, for a precise half hour slot – neither early nor late. It is the luck of the draw whether or not the guardian of the entrance gate has you on his list – more often not. You could talk your way in if you have brought with you your allocated on line number also given to those who have the internet handy.
One can only access the various bins like those for printer cartridges or clothing, or the Reuse Shop, by walking along a narrow perimeter pathway behind barrier railings. This is to deter folk from wandering across the route of albeit slow moving cars intent on dumping their rubbish, as one gentleman did on another site with fatal consequences.
Christchurch Road was dark enough for reflections of headlight stars in wet tarmac puddles.
We diverted to Pilley Hill where the anonymous crochet artist had managed in the short space of time available to replace her pillar box Jubilee tribute with the now necessary Memorial to Queen Elizabeth II.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s tasty, wholesome, chicken and vegetable stewp and fresh bread, with which she drank South Point Sauvignon 2021 and I drank Louis Latour Marsannay Rouge 2018. The young family ate a little later.