Monday, 4 April 2011

How green is my valley

The sun is streaming down with godlike rays, glinting on the lake, bringing out the velvetiest, cricket-pitchiest green slopes of Mistle Hill. Dusty, who has been dawdling with her nose to the ground, has just spotted me up ahead. Oh Lordy! She’s thundering down the hill towards me... I prepare to dive to left or right, but she misses me by inches and charges straight past me, down the steep slope. There’s no way I’d be thundering down the hill like that at 88. I’m already not doing it at 50.

Who’s that up ahead? In a cap, with a stick. Dusty bounds off to find out. She’s doing little leaps of joy around this person, who could be the vicar, or, if I squint a little more, could be Muriel, or…

‘Morning, Eliza. There’s a parcel for you in the box!’

Ah, it’s Prue. Honestly, I need prescription binoculars. A parcel, though! How exciting! I know – it must be products for review! A bumper pack of Touche Eclat! A lifetime supply of MAC lipsticks! Maybe a present from EMI? All my old albums digitally remastered on CD! Doggie chews?

I open the metal lid to find what looks disappointingly like a book from Amazon. I blog on such a diversity of subjects, it could be about anything. Writing the Perfect CV, perhaps? Finding the Perfect Man? I tear it open. Oh. Microsoft Office 2007 for Seniors for Dummies. It appears to be a gift from Meredith. Well it’s very kind of her. I shall look at it in due course. 

The phone is ringing as I open the front door. Ah, Candlebury Motors. It turns out I'm the luckiest woman in Britain! I am in the tiny minority of broken cam belt-befallees whose engine has survived unscathed. Only another £300 down, then. I am quite dizzy with ecstasy.

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