Saturday 9th July 2016

As I have said most weeks, I wait in anticipation through the week, in the hope that the weekend will be warm and sunny and so suitable for photography. And most weekends there is some time that would be able to go out and go to snap orchids, butterflies or churches or trains. So, once the weekend is upon us, I check the weather on the BBC, and find, or found this weekend, that the weather gods were not going to be kind to me, as it was going to be both dull and windy. The twin banes of macro photography.

And so the thought was what to do with the whole day. To start with, I needed a hair cut, the infamous barnet mangle. After coffee and breakfast, Jools drops me in Cherrytree so I can wait for the shop to open. Now that the owner, Alan, has retired there is much less sarcasm and abuse int he shop. Now, some might say that this is a good thing, but it don't feel quite the same to me.

Also waiting outside is Jools' nephew, George, now 21 years old and a builder's labourer, and worldwide traveller, even more so than me! Being young and sensible, we works hard, saves money and rarely drinks. So, he is planning on a multi-month trip to India and The Philippines over the winter. I never thought of doing such things when I was his age!

Once I had been in the chair and had me head shorn and eyebrows trimmed, Jools was back and so we could go back home to decide what to do with the day. On the radio was Huey, so we potter around, with the radio on and the morning passed by until it was time for lunch. Last week I had bought the stinkiest cheese imaginable; called Isle of Avalon, and it was robust to say the least, but with crackers and a bottle of Proper Job, it went down very well indeed.

After lunch, flicking through the TV channels, I find the final hour of the Tour de France on, now it has been some years since I watched it, so settled down with Mulder on my lap as they powered their way up a mountain, then Chris Froome broke free as the crested the climb and accelerated to win by 13 seconds.

Outside it is bright, but with the wind in the north, feels much colder than it really is. Jools works in the garden, I begin to prepare dinner.

We get a call from Mike; are we free at half six? As they want to scatter Nan's ashes. We are, so at half six we are parked outside Connaught Park, and walking up the hillside on which it is located, to find the rest of the family.

We find them the other side of an ornamental pond, and once George has arrived, the family take a handful of Nan and let the wind take her. Nan loved flowers, nature and ice cream, and the park was probably the best place in town for her. Once Nan was gone, Mike opens a bottle of Prosecco so we can toast her memory. And the deed is done, and Nan is gone forever.

We drive back home and I fire up the fryer to cook chips, and then the rings on the cooker to griddle the steaks and the garlic mushrooms. We have another bottle of Prosecco to share as we eat. As we eat the Pet Shop Boys are on the radio, playing their favourite tunes for our entertainment. What could be better?

And that is done. As so is Saturday; not much else to do other than to go to bed and listen to the wind in the trees and Bob's flagpole rattling in the breeze.