Musings re neighbour; wedding; Teddy

Have had cynical suspicions over the last few weeks that my MK neighbour Fraser may be dealing, as have seen an assortment of lone men knocking on his door, some of whom don’t look likely to be close friends of his (though this may reflect an overly cynical assumption that toothless skinhead white men in their fifties (viz, Fraser) do not usually form close friendships with young black men in their early twenties – I could be wrong though). On the up side, he is quiet, and says good morning politely whenever we meet – and, blessedly, so far shows no sign of Norman-esque nosiness.

Drove down to The Stonemill at Rockfield last Friday for Dave and Hazel’s wedding on the Saturday. As it was pouring with rain when we arrived in Monmouth I wasn’t optimistic about Saturday’s weather, but as it happened it stayed dry, though not overly sunny. Greeted a number of extended family members and parental friends, some of whom I hadn’t seen for some time. The ceremony itself was held in the Stonemill restaurant, a converted 16th century barn – atmospheric if rather cosy; I almost had to resort to shunting Dave and Hazel out of the way in order to find a space to do my reading – while the wedding breakfast was held in a marquee in the grounds. Ray’s usher duties extended themselves into a certain amount of ‘master of ceremonies’ duties due to the unfortunate absence of Dave’s best man Doug. Very superior food for a wedding breakfast; most I have attended play it safe with bland offerings unlikely to offend anyone, usually melon followed by chicken breast in some sort of inoffensive sauce. Mum persuaded (= forced) Dad to have a bit of a dance at the evening’s ceilidh, while the rest of us took advantage of the photo booth to be a bit silly – especially Ruth, who has evidently popped up subsequently in a few photographs with complete strangers. Ruth and I had to make our way back on the Sunday morning in deference to her starting new job on Monday, but evidently Sunday turned out to be the best weather of the weekend for those who had stayed on for the Sunday barbecue.

My reading of The Song of Wandering Aengus gave me an opportunity to actually use the compendium of Yeats' poetry that I was given many years ago, but that has been lingering among sundry other books acquired mainly to show visitors how clever I am, including a Nietzsche reader, a book of German verse and a copy of Homer's Iliad in the original Greek.

Attended a lunchtime meditation session yesterday courtesy of the OU’s Mind Body Spirit club. Hadn’t been to a meditation class since my experience with the ghastly Anya of Meditation UK a year or so ago and was pleasantly surprised by this one, which was of the silent focus-on-the-breath type that I prefer. The usual class leader was absent so it was led by a woman named Panayiota, who also appears to be giving some sort of nutrition lecture one lunchtime next week, which I may or may not attend.

Have been forced (using the term loosely) to perform some emergency surgery on my ancient teddy bear, as the felt covering his ears had perished and his original threadbare ears were dangerously on show. As I only had white felt, he now has new white ears, which I feel he is extremely pleased with. See 'before' and 'after' shots. The whole process was met with a certain amount of derision from Ruth who told me I should get out more. Some people have no heart.