Today, Thursday marks the special day of two members of the Day clan, plus a very special angel spending time in Stanhope and emanating love wherever she goes. Younger daughter, now with a double barreled surname due to divorce, which she finds very unusual, though a search will inevitably find a few others, and not only posh folks who often like such pretensions of grandeur, quite likes to be special and different from other surnames, though she's by no means short of social skills, nor needy for attention from any random passer-by offering her attention not necessarily with benign intent. Anyway younger daughter responds to her HB verse and gifts with an invitation to visit next Monday, which fits perfectly into other possible plans. By the way, since we're on the subject, neither daughter shows fear of living Life to the full after the traumas of separation of their parents. It happens often, and more than one father has lost all contact with his daughters, for the sake of keeping the new wife happy. Which is sad.
Over to elder sister's first born son of the four she brought into the world hoping for a daughter, eldest nephew sired three daughters and no son, so his Mum finally got the daughter she wanted times 3 from eldest nephew of the clan, with the name of the father, my first brother in law.
That side of the family seems quite normal, and the other boys knocked out two boys, two girls and a boy, and two girls, no boy so far, in descending order. Clearly fertility was not an issue with them.
Meanwhile, in France, younger sister married a Breton peasant, who she met in Toulouse when they were students there. First was a daughter, then the son required to take over the organic farm, when his Dad moved on. My French niece shows no signs of reproducing and now lives in Liverpool, whilst French nephew married a French woman who popped out two boys.
The tragic death of my elder brother, from a brain tumour, left his widow in Australia with three young daughters, one of whom recently produced a daughter to add to the brood.
Back to the events of today, Thursday, and half-term week in these parts, a trip to Durham with Daisy proves just as weird and wonderful as always. The first job was to pop in to fix the micro-switch or cut it off to stop the pinging. An easy task, you might think but ...the next port of call, was the overflow car park near County Hall, a perfect place to park awhile, and free ... this becomes interesting, since the free parking has been commandeered by a mobile covid testing unit. Of course, Daisy and I waited out turn to discuss things with the young man checking us in. He apologised for the inconvenience and saw the reasons I had for taking no part in their game of fascism. He was Rumanian, and knew enough about Ceaucescu to see through the Scamdemic, and was grateful for his job, helping him learn English better, which is fair enough.
Walking past the Railway Station, a worker was drilling holes, and stopped to discuss things and gratefully accepted his free copy of The Light, since he believed none of the papers could be trusted, like most if not all politicians. On through to the City and over the River Wear to the market place, a dear friend was found preparing to paint the faces of excited children queuing up for her artistic services with her daughter helping her as the queue became longer ... before which a hug from her Mum, the artist, and a first meeting with her elder daughter, a Muslim, was very heartwarming because the mother professes admiration for Rumi and Sufism equally with Buddha, so an interesting mix indeed ... the story continues tomorrow, Friday, with a trip with a close friend and her young grandsons for Halloween stories at Seven Stories near Byker, then Saturday maybe a visit from a Buddhist Sufi mystic, and Sunday perhaps another Stand in the Park in Hexham, but who knows, let's see ... one day at a time!
Now it's raining, and time to tog up and get damp, stretch the legs and breathe the fresh air, before settling down in front of the fire, and supper!
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