Fairways

Grateful as always to be able to visit this stretch of coastline.

 But delighted to discover that we have been granted access

to this vast open space,

newly liberated by the council in an otherwise urban area,

from its previous incarnation as a golf course.

 Beckenham Place Park.

Free for all.

Baggage

I am not a fan of the large tote.

It may be my undoing one day but if I can,

I leave the house with no more than a travel card,

a credit card, my phone and my keys.

Even the keys are paired down because the car key fob is so bulky.

Not for me the chatelaine's heavy belt hook.

I don't carry make up because I don't wear any.

I never mastered that skill.

I don't carry a book because I can't concentrate on trains and tubes -
the people must be watched.

I don't carry an umbrella because it never rains if I do.

The newel post is the usual home for household bags.

The threadbare Ally Capellino page is a handmedown from son 
(Happy Birthday!) to husband,

the Strand Bookstore bag is my sole souvenir from the last New York trip,

and the small felt bag is you know who's.

She chose the ribbon and the button.

If only all bags could be as minimal as this.

Of course the bag carried by her loyal retainers is huge.

Change of clothes, change of shoes, waterproofs, gloves, hat, scarf,
 wipes, toys, hair accoutrements,

drink, snacks, sunglasses, make up quite probably. . .

Insufficient fuss?*

 I failed to note that the blog turned ten sometime in October.

I think my 3 year old guest photographer

had something to do with that.

I spend quite a bit of time at the computer,

but these days I find I am searching for

entertaining songs and clips from her present
and my past,
 to suit her very catholic tastes.

Enjoy!

And this of course.
She knows all the words.

* Barbara Skelton, socialite, noted in her diary June 26th 1952,

'My Birthday today. Insufficient fuss made.'

Quandary