Post 286. A SHORT MONTH.

SO SOME SHORT 
Goodbyes and Hallos.

On Monday of this week we said our final goodbye to old friend Joan Keep. Customary service at the (above) crematorium down the road from here.
The one bright note was that her beloved little dog has been adopted and, our reliable informant tells us, is blissfully happy with its new owner.
She would like that.
The late John Tree's funeral service will take place on the mainland next week. I have been invited to attend but have regretfully declined. It's a bit too soon after Joan's and a bit too far for me to travel. (The spirit's willing, but the bladder...)
My kindest thoughts will be at Southwick - pronounced Suthick - in Hampshire on the day. My parents lived at Widley, a village close by, as did my Leader and I for the first few years of our marriage.
Unbeknown to me until many years later, John Tree and his wife, Bubbles, lived on the other side of the village from us, in the very road where my grandparents (on my mother's side) resided throughout WW2 and for some while thereafter.
A cliche, I know, but sometimes it really is a small world.
So to Tuesday of this week when we said happy hallos to Maureen's nephews Steve and Phil, the sons of her late (loved by the entire family) sister Jean Butler.
They - icy wind and snow squalls notwithstanding - ventured over from Gosport, Hants., for the day to take us out to lunch, reminisce, and generally make an elderly aunt and uncle feel wanted.
Despite the fact that they now qualify for bus passes, we still think of them as "the boys."
Over the years they have had their health problems, but neither has ever let illness keep him out of the work place for a single day more than the medics have deemed entirely necessary. The pair of them are a credit to their departed parents and thoroughly nice people to know.
So thanks again, boys. We'll try to make it over there to you for a day in summer.
TELEVISION.
Endeavour has been back.
All the leading actors (and those who back them up) are excellent. Roger Allam's DCI Fred Thursday is the best character currently on television.
The Walking Dead is back.
All the leading actors (and those who back them up) are excellent. Chandler Riggs's Carl Grimes (below) is the best character currently leaving television.
On a personal note: we have very much enjoyed your acting (and seeing you grow up) over the past six years, Chandler. Thank you and every good wish for the future.

Post 285. THE CHEERFUL AND THE SAD.

 

FIRST THE CHEERFUL.
On the really bright side.

First and foremost we have had the news that our favourite granddaughter, Jess (above left), gained a first in her recent university exams.
I don't have an inkling what that really means (lacked the background and the nous ever to qualify for uni) but I gather a first anywhere along the line is a very good mark indeed.
We are delighted with - and for - her.
Bonchurch Pond no longer beckons, lovely girl.
And on Shrove Tuesday our favourite grandson, Ellis (above right), came here with his mum, our Roz (nowhere above), for the annual pancake fest.
He took one look at Mo cooking the first of the batch and asked: "Can I do that?"
Maureen has never in her life turned down a willing volunteer. "Why not," she said and prepared him with one more example prior to handing over the ladle and skillet.
He then turned out nigh on a score of perfect pancakes.
Any television chef would have been proud of him.
We certainly were.
We ate very well that evening.
AND NOW THE SAD.
RIP two more old friends.
The older you get the more it happens. Stands to reason, doesn't it?
A week ago last Tuesday: our friend, and a former work colleague of Mo, Joan Keep, died in a nursing home at Sandown.
Joan was highly competent at whatever she undertook. A first class social services administrator, a devoted carer to her parents throughout their later years, and a splendid gardener all her life, it was a particularly sad irony that this nice lady, eventually stricken with dementia, was forced to leave her pet dog, together with her lovely home and garden at Ryde, and go into care.
We were told that she died peacefully, in her sleep. No surprise there. Joan never made a fuss about anything.
Then, last Sunday evening one of the straightest coppers I have ever known, longtime acquaintance John Tree, died at his home on the mainland following a long illness.
John was a born policeman. I think he first went into the police as a cadet, followed that with national service in the Royal Military Police and then joined the Portsmouth and Hampshire force to serve out the rest of a solid police career, quickly reaching the rank of sergeant.
By the time he retired from police work I believe he had become something of a security expert.
For a while he was the highly respected security chief of the largest company here on the Island, eventually leaving when his health started to deteriorate and the commute from the mainland became too much.
I'm afraid I then lost touch - only hearing on the grape vine of his ventures into local radio and 'oldie' choir singing - but I continued to like him and everything I heard about him.
He once said to me, apropos the security world: "There's no such thing as complete security. You can never cover all the angles."
John Tree was a man to whom you listened. He had no time for bullshit.
Go carefully, friends, you're a dwindling race.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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