John? Where’s John?

I had an early Talking Newspaper this morning. I gave the girls a few twisty sticks and headed out. The weather was beautiful and perfect for a walk through the park into town.

It was still good for the walk down to the Chantrys only not as pleasant as the park. This is particularly crossing Crondall Lane where it joins West Street. What happens this time of the morning is that the road into Farnham (West Street) is chokkas with, I assume, cars coming to work.

Actually, walking along the road, idly counting single occupancy cars, it would appear that only about one in ten cars has more than one occupant in it. And people wonder why Farnham (and other market towns) is so polluted.

The bigger problem at Crondall Lane is that cars coming along West Street sometimes stop to let cars in and out of the lane. It means that someone trying to cross the lane appears to have Buckley’s chance of getting to the other side. It requires pinpoint accuracy with a complete disregard for personal safety. It’s interesting that the cars let each other in and out but don’t bother thinking of pedestrians.

That was all by-the-by. I managed to get to the Chantrys and set about cutting up the paper for the Farnham edition. I was looking forward to my readers today as I had the amazing John the Vicar, AmDram Light Opera Star Liz and the ever tease-worthy Margaret. I was also going to have the newest member of the engineering staff, Jane. It promised to be a fun session.

And it was, except for one small detail. John didn’t turn up.

The thing is, when a reader doesn’t turn up, my first thought is that something dreadful has befallen them. They are all quite old and sometimes frail and when I ring and leave a message, I can’t help but be concerned for their safety.

The rest of us divided John’s stories between us and we made the recording with just the three of us. It was still a great giggle and we had fun.

Afterwards I emailed Tony regarding John, passing on my concern. Later Tony emailed to say that John had called him to apologise after hearing my message. He’d not received his copy of the roster and, therefore, had no idea he was rostered on. Poor John. He then rang me later to apologise some more. I told him I was just glad he was still with us, a sentiment he readily agreed with.

One other thing of great concern was discovered in this photograph. I took it on the walk home because I thought it looked good.

Then I noticed the sign in the bottom right hand corner. It was this that caused me to stop with concern.

I don’t mind the fact that it’s under new management and will be opening soon. Obviously these things happen and that’s fine but, usually after an early Talking Newspaper I drop in at my favourite pub on the way home for a well earned pint. The fact that the Nelson Arms is the final pub between the Chantrys and home is just really irritating.

Someone who was glad I didn’t get to stop for a beer was eagerly waiting for me at home, desperate for a bit of a ball chase. Here she is waiting (im)patiently on the stairs.

And she was rewarded with a lot of running, chasing and returning. Hopefully it made her bath a little more bearable once we returned home though she still managed to make herself scarce when she perceived it was going to happen.

I don’t know how she does it. It’s not like I’m being obvious or do it at the same time or anything else that dogs learn. She just knows. Pest. Unlike Freya who just gives in when it’s her turn.

They were getting a big spruce up because Mirinda was due to return tonight. This also occasioned another recipe from my new Persian cookbook. Tonight it was cod in herbs and tamarind. It was delicious.

As Mirinda took a forkful her eyes opened wide and she said “WOW!” It was really, really yum.