IBIZA V DUNOON

The view from our son's balcony in Ibiza

Dunoon

It may seem rather unfair to compare Dunoon with Ibiza but the comparison is fresh in my mind because our younger son has just returned from three scortching days while my mother has just telephoned from Dunoon where she has been lying on her hotel bed all day watching the rain teeming down. I had a look at hotel and airfare prices to the Spanish island and it would have cost her half as much as she's paying for a week under leaden skies.

Our son spent half an hour on the phone this morning relating his Ibizan escapades and I've spent every minute since with my head in my hands - I was surprised he had half an hour to spare because he's now en-route to Malaysia where the weather (according to the BBC's 5 day forecast) is much the same as in Dunoon (only hotter).  May I offload my worries here?:

1. Will his plane be hit by lightning?


2. Will he remember to take the soluble aspirin that could save him from DVT?


3. Will he get his connections - 3 planes to Kuala Lumper


4. Will his luggage be lost?


5. Will he wake up in time for his plane on the second day?


6. Will he be scratched or bitten by an orang utan?


7. Will he swim in the sea and be eaten?

That's enough for the time being. I read something very profound the other day by someone called Kahlil Gibran. It was: "You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth." I think someone must have drawn my string back a bit far.

IBIZA

The London son is sunning himself  in Ibiza. He and his work colleagues were asked to tick what they wanted to do on the first morning (because after all, this is a working holiday!) - go-karting; have a massage or lie by the pool. I held my breath because I thought I knew that he'd plump for go-karting. But no - his tick went next to lie by the pool - sensible lad. When he gets back he's got precisely six hours before he leaves for Kuala Lumpur - complete (I hope) with soluble aspirin, circulation socks and Deet.

The artist son has definitely got green fingers - absolutely everything he plants and transplants, thrives. I got two free clematis plugs through the post last month - I kept one and gave him one. Mine has completely disappeared while his is half way up his fence.

I PASSED - BUT....

Well I passed the maths exam - 72.5%. But since I achieved 71.4% when I walked into the classroom off the street four weeks ago, I'm not over-the-moon. The trouble is, I left all my revision until this morning, when I had a three hour session at college leading up to the exam. If you're a keen follower of this blog you may remember that people have rudely stormed out and other people have done a runner, after asking to go to the toilet. So today it was just me and the tutor. And since she's roughly the same age as me we got talking about families, suntans (using olive oil and vinegar), holidays and careers. By the time we'd got through that lot there wasn't a lot of revision time left. Then I took a break and visited the sales. I did practise dimensions though by cramming shoe boxes into carrier bags.  I don't think I've got enough time left to get to where I wanted to get to mathematically - which was the Big Bang.  I'll have a cup of tea and think about it.

MATHS

A few weeks ago I decided to take a maths course at the local college and tomorrow it's the exam. I've had a stack of pretend exam papers on the dining room table for two weeks and when I make my daily "to do" list the pretend papers always feature (at the bottom of the list it's true, but none-the-less they're there). Needless to say they haven't been touched and when my daughter asked me when I was going to start my revision I told her I'd probably do a bit on the morning of the exam. Well, the roof almost caved in as our roles reversed and I got a stern ticking off.   Whatever.

The London son went to a lovely wedding at the weekend and the reception was at Ragley Hall. He met up with his pals from Cambridge.

and if this picture disappears it's because I've had another ticking off.

ANOTHER LETTER IN THE TIMES!

I bashed out another letter to the Times yesterday and lo and behold it's in today's paper. My husband's not spotted it yet so I'm holding my breath. I've just been looking at some of the photos from the Cotswolds - it's a beautiful area.

 

 

 It's my own fault - I shouldn't have been eating cholcolate. A big chunk of filling came away this morning just as I was enjoying a chunk of Cadbury's Dairy Milk. I'd spotted some temporary filling mix in the chemist a while ago so rushed down to the village for a pack. Handed over my £5, came home and got in a right mess. I mixed the powder and the brown liquid (the kitchen smelled like the dentist's surgery) and then tried to fill my own tooth - the stuff went everywhere and it burnt. In fact the side of my face felt as though I'd had three injections. I'm left with yellow cement covering more gum than tooth and I can hardly wait to phone the dentist on Monday. My Dad used to use super glue to stick fillings back in - maybe that was a better idea.

RSC A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM

We've just got back from Stratford where we had tickets for A Midsummer Night's Dream at The Courtyard Theatre. We were on row A and the stage was at chest-height in front of us. It was very shiny and at times we thought that the actors were going to slide off into our laps. The production was a classic and very funny. My only slight quibble was with the costumes. I'd booked to see the play as near to Midsummer  Night as I could get because to me it conjures up summer flowers, mossy banks and pretty fairies. But these fairies were Goths holding macabre dolls - not quite what I'd had in mind.

FATHER'S DAY

The new phones have now been fixed - in a manner of speaking. They're called "Symphony" phones and they're living up to that name. Whenever we get a call, each phone makes a different sound - one plays Happy Birthday. At the moment it's quite amusing but I think we're going to tire of the row very soon.

It was lovely to have everyone at home for Father's Day and extremely appropriate cards were given - in fact I was convinced that the London son had stuck a photo of his dad on the front of his.

My husband can now go on his travels wearing a new shirt and gardening gloves  and equipped with a Fortnum and Mason picnic hamper and a pair of secateurs.

I wish I could put the delicious scent from these Abraham Darby roses on the site.



and while I was in a flowery mood I took a picture of the Nicotiana that seeded themselves in the pot where my fig is growing - they're the biggest I've ever seen and I can only presume that they're benefitting from the food I give the figs.