I also find beauty in fabrics and yarns, in colours and textures, and those of you who read my blog regularly will know I had been amassing pinks and oranges, plain and fancy, for a snuggly I had intended knitting. Well, dear readers, the thing got so darned heavy I knew it was going to be impractical as a comforter - you'd never crawl out from under it without the aid of a tow truck, that was assuming you hadn't melted away under the combined weight and heat of course. Plus knitting it was also becoming somewhat of a feat of endurance, no need for gym visits this week then. Not that I go anyway, but if I did, well, I could have saved myself some money whilst making this. Thankfully the weather had cooled down last week, and I was able to crack on with it, and once I realised it wasn't going to be fit for the original purpose, and I had decided to make it smaller, I wanted to get it finished. It now is finished and sits on a newly-painted, very pale pink directors chair in my workroom, ready for when I want to sit and check out a pattern book, or read a bit of poetry, or plug myself into some relaxing sounds for a meditate, all of which I am wont to do, when the mood strikes.
Yesterday morning a huge cavalcade of old scooters, Vespas and the like, drove through the village, en route to Sunny Hunny (Hunstanton) presumably. They were of all ages and colours and boy, did they bring back memories! Had I been quicker off the mark I could have photographed them, but at the time I heard this unusual noise as they approached, I was in the midst of cooking Sunday lunch - for those of a culinary bent this was slow-roasted pork cooked on a bed of carrot, butternut squash, onion, garlic, onion, fresh thyme, lemon thyme, pineapple sage, ordinary sage, mint, parsley and seasoning, with some elderflower cordial watered down a bit. I often use cider, apple juice or wine, but fancied a change, and as it turned out, when all these bits and pieces were mashed and the liquor drained off, there was a lovely sharpness to the resultant jus... too posh to call gravy, sorry but I have to be a bit cheffy here. I served it with fresh garden peas and broccoli, and new potatoes. Pud was apple and blackberry pie by the way.
Anyway, the scooters were followed by two chaps on elderly motorbikes, hardly a Hell's Angel chapter, more a sentence really.
But the sight and sound brought back such memories of the Sixties, when my first 'boyfriend' was David, who had a motorbike. Now he was a friend who was a boy, well young man, rather than a boyfriend. He was gay, the first time I had ever encountered one, and as you might imagine, back in those days, and living in a small parochial place, he rather stood out and came in for a bit of a hard time on occasions. He was a hairdresser, so not only did I get a brilliant friend, but one who cut hair for free too! Of course, when my father discovered I was going out with a biker, he was not amused... that turned to puzzlement when he heard David speak and it became obvious I wasn't his preferred choice of partner.
I don't like the word 'gay' applied to homosexuals, and I don't much like that word either, but what else do you call them? Anyway, I have had three such friends over the years, David was the first when I was 16... and I quickly learnt that when on a motorbike, you DO NOT lean into the curve when you go around corners! Then there was another David, this time one who was in the Royal Navy serving during the Falklands. He and I had such a hoot when we spent a morning in Harrods, after that particular crisis was over and he was back home.
Then there was Stephen, who was/is absolutely gorgeous looking, a talented musician and really nice chap. None of these friendships are a part of my life any more. The first David ended up moving away, the friendship with the second David just sort of fizzled out and with Stephen... well, that was down to a jealous partner who seemed to resent me, our friendship, so for the sake of peace and quiet for Stephen, we let the friendship drop. But I miss it, they were all great friendships but his was the best. Just because they didn't last longer than a few years doesn't mean they were any less valid or important as those friendships which stand the test of time and are with me from schooldays, or my early twenties, to the present day. Some friendships last a lifetime, others are a mere interlude in our lives, but each was special in its own way, just not permanent. I find beauty of a kind, in such deep friendships, no matter how long-lasting.
And of course, there is beauty in flowers. Yet another little bouquet from the garden, this time containing red valerian, deep magenta lychnis (campion), nigella both in flower (blue) and the lovely ripening seedheads, lavender, clove-scented pinks, heuchera flowers, alchemilla, marjoram, cosmos and cranesbill.