A good life in the offing.

I find it hard to believe that it is the end of the week - so much has happened and I find myself in a reflective mood - the sun is shining at last, and it is a warm afternoon, full of promise for the weekend. Let us hope that, for once, the weather forecast is spot-on, and the sun will shine for the next two days.

Talking with R throughout Wednesday, reliving the past, remembering the time when she and I shared a house, and that was where I met the philandering husband. So long ago - 1965. R and I shared a house in Ebury Street near the Pimlico Road in London. We moved in in January 1965 - the time of Winston Churchill's funeral. There were 6 of us and it was pretty chaotic. My abiding memory is of the two of us, alone in the house, no dates in the offing, drinking chilled Tio Pepe sherry, which I used to bring back from home. after a weekend visit. Very sophisticated tastes! We had one of those old gas fires with upright perforated sort of china bars, and we sat on the floor in front it commiserating at our lack of success in the dating game. Then - the philandering husband-to-be appeared on the scene and my fate was sealed. My thoughts and remembrances have continued apace since returning home on Wednesday evening - it is a lifetime that I am recalling, and it seems one minute almost as if it never happened, and the next I remember things so clearly it is as if time has not passed at all. I remember the first time the husband-to-be asked me out on a date. We were giving a bottle party in the house, and frankly, he was pestering me. R reminded me that she had gone to her room, and I knocked on her door and asked her to rescue me from the pest! He was wearing a camel jacket, and a large patterned kipper tie - oh, memories!

As I have written before, London was fun in the Sixties - everything was a new experience, and the city seemed so much smaller than it is now. The philanderer and I drove across France,and down into Spain in a Triumph TR 3A - that was a very brave thing to do then, there were no autoroutes, no dual carriageways, it took a long time. The roads into Spain through the mountains were virtually non-existent, a mass of potholes. We had a wonderful time - no money, we slept in the car at the side of the road. Unimaginable today - but quite safe then. The more I remember
the fun we had, the more sad I feel. Forty four years of memories, experiences shared, all count for nothing now. He is in a relationship built on nothing - ephemeral, substanceless, nothing to share. A life of total selfishness - whereas I feel enriched by my life experiences and now, for the first time in 13 months, know that I have a future, yes, I feel sad, but now I feel I can make a good life for myself come what may.

This weekend will be another trip down memory lane. The junior daughter and I are going down to Kent, for the Ruby Wedding party of some old dear friends who still live in the village where my girls spent 11 happy years, before we moved to Northamptonshire. They are a large family, the three married daughters grew up alongside my two, and between them have 7 children. It will be such fun meeting everyone again, swapping memories, and, hopefully, enjoying several glasses of wine in F and J's beautiful English garden. There will be such a lump in my throat.