This morning we awoke to lots of wind and some rain, but snow on the northern hills. It was a little more than a dusting but not much more. Don and Gordon had postponed yesterday's game so they went out today. Don isn't back yet and it's almost 1 so they must have got on pretty well.
Speaking of a dusting, that's what I've been doing: dusting, sweeping, and other tidying up in anticipation of the So and Sews meeting here this afternoon. Perhaps Don will do the Hoovering for me when he comes in as lugging the big upright Hoover around taxes my back.
This evening will be my last chorus rehearsal for the year. The group will meet again next week but we've been invited out to dinner and guess which option I chose.
On the telly last night, we saw a good documentary about Carmen Miranda and a really interesting drama about wartime. Carmen Miranda's story was fascinating and one that neither of us had ever known. For example, did you know she was born in Portugal? Sadly, it involved the Hollywood studio practice of introducing seemingly innocent drugs to help stars to find more energy, followed by more drugs to help them sleep because of the effect of the previous drugs, and the eventual addiction and physical as well as mental breakdowns. The drama was called Housewife, 49 and was based on a diary kept by an English housewife, beginning when she was 49, at the start of WWII and carrying right through to the end of the war. The diaries apparently were a project by the War Office just to document the affect of the war on ordinary Britains from all walks of life. It was well done, nicely adapted from the actual diaries, and beautifully acted. Most of us Americans have no idea what it would be like to be in our own homes and hear the sound of glass smashing, belongings falling, and walls giving way to bomb blasts or of walking through a blasted neighbourhood the next day to see the destruction all around. I sometimes wonder if we had had those experiences would some of our leaders be so blase about bombing other civilians around the world.
The sun keeps trying to break through, the rain has stopped, and I can see blue through the clouds. Maybe the day will brighten after all.
Reunited at Prestwick Airport
Upon my return from Aix-en-Provence
About Me
- Lynn
- In September 2003, my husband, Donald, and I moved from Bethesda, Maryland, to the Highland village of Comrie in Perthshire. It was the fulfillment of a dream that we have nurtured since our first trip to Scotland in 1986. Beginning with October 1, 2003, each month I have written the Highland Line to family, friends, former colleagues, and acquaintances who were interested in following our adventure. Donald is a consultant/teacher in distance education and an avid golfer, although he hadn't played until he began taking lessons in 2003. I am a quilter, specializing in smaller art quilts rather than traditional bed-sized quilts, although I sometimes make one of those as well. We have four daughters back in the States and 6 grandchildren. We make two trips to the States each year to visit with them and as many friends and relatives as we can manage to squeeze in. Welcome to our dream come true.
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