Everything but the kitchen sink

Today I decided to look for my tent and sleeping bag, which have been housed under the spare bed, in the belief that this would make them easy to locate. The phrase ‘needle in a haystack’ come to mind.

Amongst other things, I found a box of files from a course I stopped teaching in 2018, and another from a course I completed in 2011. It is a good thing my friend keeps me supplied with chicken-feed sacks: they are so handy for putting papers out for recycling!

I have not yet found a sleeping bag of a handy size. When I buy a proper ladder, I will be able to go up to the loft and look for one. Now that I have deposited £80 of small change in the bank over the course of eight days, I shall be able to get the ladder, and ascent go to the loft with ease.

I have also found a beautiful wall hanging, embroidered in a naive style. My aunt S, who used to visit Stroud for work around 25 years ago for work, gave it to me. She has dementia now. I will rearrange my wall space so that I can hang it up to remind me of her, and all that have gone before her. Wall hangings make the room look cosy, too.

Fragment: on the day of the ‘Stop the War’ marches in early 2003, just before Gulf War Two, my mother and that same aunt bumped into each other on the platform at Connel ferry (there is no station building anymore). Both were heading for the demonstration in Glasgow. Neither had ever been on a march before. My mother was 66 and my aunt at least 60. Both felt compelled to go, on their own, on a long journey (2.5 hours plus each way) to march against the bombing of Iraq, while I did the same in London. Kirsty and Susan, I salute your memories. .