Trip to London

I met a friend for brunch in London, which felt very grown-up. It was raining, so I took my umbrella. As I walked along Victoria Street, there was a woman hurrying in the rain, dressed for an occasion, gradually getting soggy. I caught her up, and suggested she shared my umbrella. I spotted other people, some with umbrellas, some getting wet, but no one else was sharing. I mentioned this later to my daughter. Apparently sharing your umbrella is not a thing, especially in London. This seems wrong, I shall start a campaign.

I was slightly late for brunch due to barricades outside Buckingham Palace ready for the Jubilee celebrations. I hadn’t allowed time for detours. When I arrived, my friend messaged to say she too was delayed. This proved a problem for the staff, who came to the table several times to tell me the kitchen would soon be shut (which was a lie, because they serve lunch there). Felt generally uncomfortable. Then I ordered the wrong food—egg florentine—because I thought it was egg benedict but with salmon. It isn’t, it’s with spinach, which is not at all the same. Such a shame.

I hope you had a fun time celebrating the Jubilee. We had the extended family round, for a walk to the pigs and then tea and cake. I invited everyone, envisioning a cosy chat afterwards in the kitchen. Husband saw the sunshine, and set up chairs outside and organised a croquet competition. Son muttered about it being typical that his parents were planning opposing events. I don’t think anyone else noticed.

Large ducklings and their fed-up-with-childcare mother. You can just about spot the new chick.

We had bit of a disaster in the garden this week, as Husband spotted two moorhen chicks wandering across the lawn. Every year the moorhen hatches eggs on the island, and none ever survive. I don’t like interfering with wild animals (it rarely turns out well) but these were cute black balls of fluff, tottering away from the pond in search of their mother, oblivious to the cats and crows. We decided I would pick them up and put them in with the ducklings. As I walked towards them, Husband was shouting: ‘Be careful of your bad back,’ which changed to ‘Quick! There’s a crow! Run faster!’ I caught them (and hurt my back) and put them in with the ducks. Mother Duck gave me a look as if to say, ‘These are tiny babies, I have finished that phase and am looking after big ducklings now.’ The ducklings all ran away scared, despite being twice the size.

A tiny ball of black fluff stumbling across the lawn.

As predicted, it didn’t turn out well. I found one the following morning, it had died. I suspect it got cold because it didn’t stay in the huddle of ducklings. At least its final moments weren’t being eaten though. The other two managed to reunite with the mother, and we catch sight of them near the pond, though thankfully they seem to have learnt not to venture across the garden.

Anyway, thanks for reading. Hope you have a lovely week.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

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