Good? Friday

The cottage, looking cute

It’s a beautiful blue morning.

Springlike and quiet.

I’d forgotten it’s Good Friday.

I’ve never liked the holiday if truth be known.

I’ve opened the cottage windows facing the field and the ponies raise their heads as one to the noise.

I will cut the lawn shortly and tidy up the patio. 

If I have time the little flower bed by the church gate will get a weed.

That’s all I have planned today.

I feel I’ve not got much to share.

Sometimes I feel witty and interesting .

Today I feel reflective and quiet. Going Gently has always been a journal, not a forum for discussion  blog like most others, where politics and news are debated depending on how vociferous and bright the authors think they are.

Im neither, when it comes to politics.

And I’m keeping away from the news the older I get

I check my messenger account. 

A hello from a friend in hospital 

Two late replies from yesterday’s hello to friends in Liverpool and Sheffield 

Spam emails are next

Facebook likes.

Everyone intent on looking busy, vital, interesting and happy.

Albert resting in the sun

The ponies watching my sister in the garden

I cleared out a cupboard in the kitchen and boxed up an Art Deco clock, a tin tea caddy and bowls and other such bric-a-brac ready for the table top sale in the hall .

Then I watered the house plants in the cottage since covid I have collected 30 all told

I make another bucket of coffee, 

It’s nearly 11.30. The phone rings it’s a chap from the village wanting to pop down a cheque for the pane of glass sponsorship I’ve had another two requests by email, found by accident in my spam folder.

A group of walkers go past, but these don’t stop at the cottage.

My mind wanders to childhood Easters filled with too many cheap Easter eggs and The Greatest Story Ever Told on the tv.

I hated Easter as a child,

And I’m allowing old patterns of thinking to Reenact them

We all so that so well me thinks.

So I switch on the radio, something bright

Chic Eleanor has just made me smile , she saw there is to be a silent disco at the local cathedral in September and has asked if I want to go. It’s a 1990s based do where you dance with headphones on.

Sounds bizarre but fun.

I  said yes immediately.

At 60, I’m saying yes more and more.

My sister has just messaged that she will come and do the garden this afternoon. 

I’ve just cut the lawn and chatted with Anthea who lives in one of the neat little cottages on London Road.

She had been cutting horse chestnut on the bridle path and told me about orchids growing on the Gop

She has also planted an oak tree in the community garden just outside the village. 

It will be the first oak tree in Trelawnyd

I start brushing the patio. On the Garden wall was a box 

In it was small Easter egg in yellow gold foil

There’s no note.

Good Friday? 

Yes