The breakfast weather forecast says we're going to have the mother of all storms. 80 mph winds predicted. The tail end of the blizzard that hit America a couple of days ago. Angus makes sure that everything in the barn is safely tied and weighted down. Bob gives me his '' what can I do to help ? " look. Sophie is too busy glaring at the woodpeckers to be aware of these masculine concerns.
Sophie helps with planting out the rosemary in the holes she's recently excavated. Her idea of helping involves waiting until the young plants are safely bedded in and then pulling them out. She is 'discouraged' from doing this. She then turns her attention to the plastic pots. These are distributed across the lawn where they can be chewed and savaged at her leisure.
By the time we head off to the cafe under the arcades for the statutory 'illicit' half croissant, the wind has got up and the angelic duo are beginning to look fluffy.
This took place 50 years ago tomorrow. A 9 years old Angus remembers flying down from Glasgow in a BEA Vickers Viscount. It was bitterly cold. How different London and its inhabitants looked then. Men wearing hats. Everything so grey. Policemen with bowed heads. A sense of history turning a page. The whole country grieving for a man who had once captured the national mood and given voice to the fact that in the history of a people there is such a thing as a fate worse than death. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=87Xkr8z3lEo
11 comments:
Just love Bob and Sophie's windswept look. Almost like they were on some Hebridean island.
I should not admit this, Angus, but I am DESPERATE to know who you "are" in the good Scottish sense of the word. My husband, who now also follows your blog, laughs at my online unsuccessful stalking. We are of an age and nationality, if not the same sort of background, and we share a love of dogs and the south west of France.
I remember Churchill's funeral, the day off school and the sombre procession on the telly, the coffin on the gun carriage, and my mother weeping.
No storms in Aberdeenshire, Not much wind and nae sna'
Plastic plant pots, perfect for keeping a dog occupied in the garden!
Thank you for three probably quite random memories; my Dad's eyes in his old age, the Churchill War Rooms on a trip to the UK, and To Sir With Love.
Loved the last photo of the wind swept "fluffy" PONs.
Button down the hatches and be safe....80mph winds are nothing to laugh at.
Winston Churchill's funeral brought tears to my eyes...had no idea this video existed...the music, the people with sad faces, the respectful glances of those filing past the coffin....though sad, I still say thank you for posting.
Bob is such a good little chap - always so willing to help. We suppose that Sophie's idea of "helping" is down to the fact that as she dug the holes in the first place, she is entitled to empty them again - can't beat female logic!
Bob looks casually windblown, but poor Sophie looks as though there might be a bad hair day coming on - maybe an old fashioned hairnet is the answer. Surely Madame Bay would have one Sophie could borrow?
The convent and all its natural ventilation will be singing to the tune of that storm. I suspect that I'll discover a few loose slate tiles upon my return. I am sure the duo are enjoying the thorough fluff ruffle!
x
adorable pon gardeners ...
and memories of the greatest old lion. thank you angus.
What are your memories of the day, Angus?
Very moving video.
Are there men like that today I wonder?
Artistic genius. The breadth and scope of his send off and the small, human touches, all captured together so perfectly.
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