5th November

It is fireworks day.  I am a real old Scrouge about fireworks.  They frighten dogs and cats and horses and they are a wicked waste of money in my view.  It is particularly nasty in Lewes where they burn effigies of real people and throw bangers in the street.  Whereas our Halloween bonfire in Plumpton was lovely.  Just a few pumpkins and candles, and no bangs at all.
It is 200 years since Keats wrote "Ode to Autumn" after a walk in the watermeadows in Winchester.  I was reading from a book of Keats' letters and realised he was in Winchester for quite a while.  He was staying in College Street where I used to live.  He died two years later in 1821.  I found the letters written so near the end of his life very heart-rending as he was only 25 and he should have had so much ahead of him.  Jane Austen died two years earlier, also in Winchester, but I'm not sure if there was any connection between them.  At least I have lived to a ripe old age, but knowing that one's days are numbered is a sobering thought.
Josie, Rachel and I have been reading "Persuasion" aloud to each other on Thursdays but maybe I have told you that already.
Vicky

I'm trying to make the mundane sacred, inspired by a short meditation I heard recently.  I've always known that enjoying the small details is the secret to a happy life but lately I'd rather forgotten how to feel it.  Talking of which I've just scoffed two and a half buttery crumpets and several cups of tea while dusk falls outside.   
One of my daily pleasures is swimming early in the morning.  I see the same people on most days but we do not speak.  I know them and I don't know them.  It is terrible if we bump into each other by accident.  I stay in the water for exactly half an hour.  The hot shower afterwards is bliss, like the hot coffee after our choir.
I read about minor royals like Princess Beatrice in Hello magazine yesterday when I took Vicky to the hospital for her blood test.  The time passed in a flash.
I'm writing about Vicky and my time together in more detail in another diary, which makes me question what I say and don't say on this blog.  It's actually quite hard to write this blog, without upsetting anyone, but not wanting to appear too bland.  I still think it is a good idea for updates about Vicky's health, but am open to suggestions if more details are needed.
Josie