Tonight was my first time making bento for my mother as well as myself, I did pretty much the same for both of us except I got a few extra things and mum a few less coz a) I have an extra pretty box to use and b) she eats less than me anyway.  So here they are:

Going to chop logs with dad... if I retain use of all my limbs I'll be back later.  If noone hears from me it's coz I am missing an appendage!!!! 

  ETA: Home now, all limbs attached!!!!  

While we were round at Church House there was a whole thing with the electrician... I'd elaborate but while I speak 4 languages Electrician ain't one of them!! I have no clue what was going on but it involved lots of running around and flicking light switches to see if lights went on or off... and 'earthing'...?

I went home this weekend to get some of the gardening done.  I managed to get everything I wanted to done, which I'm very happy about.  And I managed to get the exact varieties of seeds I wanted from the garden centrer.  I got really absorbed in transplanting seedlings, it was really satisfying when I finally finished and could look on all my little trays of seedlings and seedlings to be.  I imagined that the fun stuff with my garden would start when the hard work really kicked in and when I harvested my produce but just the little simple productive things are really satisfying too!!!!

I am trying to think of a way that we could buy Church House.  I went round there today to check and sort out lights and I had forgotten just what a great house it is.  The garden is lovely and I couldn't help but imane if we were to live there and where exactly my allotment could go.  This interior isn't that bad really.  I know there are structural problems but its not as if there's mould growing all over the place... probably MRSA but no actual mould!!! I know that it would be a huge commitmet of time and money but really what do we nee the money for anyway? So that they can have a nice holiday every once in a while, sure.  Retirement, sure but we have money and I sure as hel don't want his "inheritance" mum keeps talking about.  She never inherited anything from Gran coz she's still kicking around and she's done fine.  Why would I need an inheritance? Hopefully by the time my parents die I'll have made my own money.  If onlyit were possible to convince the rentals its a good plan.  It would be hard but it would be worth it.  We love that house, Emily would know it was in good hands and she could always visit.  If necessary the barn could be coverted into a holiday cottage or something for additional income.  BUt that house needs people who love it.  I dread the day th yuppy family move in. 

Back in November Grandpa died.  He wasn't my real Grandpa, I didn't even know him well or spend much time round at Church House.  Not after us kids had grown up anyway.  I think I had 2 blissful summers before I was too old for hanging about with the youn 'uns.  But he was a feature in our lives.  Grandpa was my mum's friend's father but she lived in Italy so we kept an eye out for any problems.  I still rmember when he was still himself, before the senility became obvious.  Pottering around the garden, watching us kids.  Chipping in randomly in conversations in the kitchen in front of the Aga.  He was from a different generation.  A survivor of the war.  A pilot no less.  Wing Commander Davies.  And when he died I was sad.  His was my first funeral and it was everything a funeral should be.  Sure it was sad but the tears shed were tears of pride.  Pride in having known this fabulous man.   The RAF did him proud.  Trumpet bugle thing and a flyover.  Sad but so perfect for Grandpa.  This last week, Gwen, his widow died too.  There have been vague mutterings from carers that she was hurried on her way but with Grandpa gone and her own body in such a state it rather was a blessing.  Noone expected Grandpa to be the first to go but its hardly a surprise that Gwen has followed on so soon.  But with them both gone Church House is empty now.  And fo some reason that makes me so sad.  Its a fabulous house that makes no sense, I swear it's part TARDIS!! There are staircases that don't go anywhere and rooms tacked on every which way.  The perfect house for chidhood adventures.  But now its empty I can't stand the thought of it slowly descending into an even greater state of degradadtion.  It was always falling to pieces but now with noone to care for it how long before some rich bastard comes along and guts it and sanitises it? I know that makes little sense.  I don't want it to degenerate further but neither do I want it all spick and span and full of designer furniture and minimalist paint.  That just isn't Church House.  Church House is noise and clutter and dirt and life.  I would love to be able to take it on.  We all would.  If Dad still had a job we might even have done so becasue we all love that house.  But I know that we simply could not afford it.  It's too big, too far gone.  But the thought of some annonymous rich git moving into it and changing it just breaks my heart.  It's so stupid, it was never my house, I was never really there but it really does just break my heart.