Nothing lasts forever, except memories......

My dad used waxed string for so many things. I'm sure his reel started off looking  like this one

But when I inherited it there was only about a third of the reel left. 

A long length of it went into my holiday emergency kit and has been used and reused on many adventures. It has been a makeshift washing line, I've used it to measure spaces, to tie up things, to secure things....the list goes on. 

At home I've mended shoes with it, wrapped parcels for posting and I've secured sets of books for charity collections with it. Every time I've thanked my dad and it has always been called "dad's string".

The most recent job it did was restringing my beaded light pull cord in the downstairs loo, R & E made it for me when they were three years old and last week when rushing in there while saucepans were bubbling on the cooker it suffered one tug too many and beads scattered all over the floor. Now restored.....

Which sadly after the last 18 years just leaves me with this bit, which I know I'll be reluctant to use.

I can't replace it, I'll just have to manage without it. 

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Memories and meatballs.........

I think I had a bit of a dream this morning. That may sound odd but I’ve rarely had dreaming sleep or if I had then I’ve not managed to remember them when I wake up, so to have snippets of images in my head when I wake take me by surprise and need a lot of concentration to make any sense of.

Well in the early hours of this morning when I was almost ready to wake but far too cosy to stir I must have slept enough to be aware that I was with someone, I think I was a child and the someone with me was also a child – perhaps. I took their hand and said that we could visit dad now and he would be looking forward to the company, so we walked together hand in hand along the corridors. When we got to the room it was a hospital ward and dad was there in bed eating spaghetti and meatballs (that bit was really clear). Then we noticed that mum was already there beside dad’s bed, so we smiled at them both and walked on!

I don’t know what any of this means, I could guess but will never know for sure, however, this dream reminded me of when I was just 10 years old and rushed into hospital with acute appendicitis, not pleasant but my recovery was aided by the fact that my dad was in the same hospital at the same time, in fact in the same bed just the ward above. At first we had the nurses running messages between us and my poor mum was run ragged trying to visit us both and look after the home and my four siblings, she certainly was supermum! I can’t remember what dad was in there for and don’t remember him looking or acting ill, but I guess he was. As I improved I would nag the nurses until I was taken to my dad and I’d sit on his bed while he peeled grapes for me.

Tonight we are having meatballs ;o)
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