Posted by Tania Kindersley.
Lovely weekend. Very, very old friends. Lots of children. Lots of laughter. No riding because of weather; this morning there was sudden sleet and pouring rain. Later, the sun came out, I took the Pigeon up to see the chestnut mare in the field.
Suddenly, violently, in amidst all the happiness and jokes, I missed my dad so much I could hardly speak. It's coming up to Cheltenham, I suppose. Perhaps it's just what happens. The gaps between the acute missing widen; there is room for other things, there is a place for joy. When it comes though, it is still a blow at the heart.
A few pictures for you. More flowers, from my Constance Spry moment:
The flowers outside, in the earth:
Middle cousin, with dogs. Face bleached as usual, for privacy, but I did want to show you the Look of Love which the Pigeon, on the left, is bestowing. She adores that child. She follows her gently and patiently about the house. Occasionally, the small cousin stops what she is doing, turns, and gives the very old dog a hug. 'Oh, Pigeon-Face,' I hear her say, with a crooning, dying fall. That sort of breaks my heart, too:
And Herself, looking at her most regal. Perhaps she is getting ready for the Jubilee:
I do sometimes wonder what she is thinking, in her doggy old head, when she makes that face. I like to think it's a bit of a Look of Love. Mostly, I think it is likely that she is really saying Where, oh where, is my BISCUIT? (And: if I look regally yearny enough, will you just give it to me?)