I’ve been busy with research the last few days, trawling through old newspaper archives from 1940. The Times always amazes me with its old fashioned layout. Births, death and classifieds appear on the front page, local news on the following two pages, so that anything to do with the war only appears on page 4 or 5. So, one comes across the scintillating fact on p1 that ‘Mr Cuthbert’s Weekly Gardening Talk (Carnations and Chrysanthemums)’ is being held today, as is a Stamp Collection sale (all items in excellent condition), while news of BEF finally fighting the German army only appears half way through the paper. There is something terribly British about all that – we may be at war, but no blighter is going to knock carnations and stamp collecting off the front page.
Also very British – Mr S and I took our afternoon ramble round the village, and on seeing us the postman waved. He didn’t speed up and try to mow us down on the zebra crossing ala London postie-fun, but waved. I like village life.
In other news: I signed my first proof this week. Mr S and I went to Sherborne Book Shop (to collect The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie – so far so awesome) and we got chatting, and then the lovely owner of the book shop produced a proof of Mr R from the back and insisted that I sign it. It was quite a moment. Though Mr S did point out that I need to change my signature. Currently, I sign books like I do credit card slips – with a rabid scrawl. I love the Sherborne book shop – I’ve been spending my Christmas money there since I was 5 and I still can’t quite believe I’m going to have a book in the store.
Here is a bonus picture of Mr S’s favourite cow jug, filled with flowers from a garden. Not my garden. My garden isn’t full of blooms, only bloomin’ squirrels.