St Swithin's

It was a snell wind blowing round the limestone cottages in Bathford this morning when His Lordship and I went for a morning walk.
If we think the hills in Edinburgh are steep, the ones in this part of the world are vertiginous, with the little lanes seemingly winding at random in and out of the honey coloured houses.

Our party last night went with a swing and the birthday girl was both gracious and funny in her speech of welcome, making light of her accumulation of years. The rest of the gathering also had an accumulation of years, which in no way stopped them from getting up on their feet and bopping to music provided by my niece's husband's band.

Loud it was, precluding chat, but ensuring that most people were moving to the beat; not his Lordship though, who has knees that work on heathery hillsides but not on dance floors. Even I , who somehow missed out on the rhythmic dance scene when I was younger in favour of country dancing, was persuaded to shake a little of it all about.

A lunch at my brother's house beckons and there might even have been talk of dinner this evening. So much for the 5/2 regime.

This little St Swithin's church in Bathford was bustling early this morning with families clutching bunches of daffodils for Mothering Sunday.
I have been surprised by calls and messages from Oman, Budapest and Edinburgh ensuring the callers' claim on my will. I know the rest will come.....?