Mamalade

Eleanor

Our friend Eleanor passed away last week.

She would have been 90 in September. She joined our World Vision Club in1985, and always helped wherever she could at our Club’s Social Mornings, our Jumble Sales and Street Stalls.

She still retained her interest in our club when she went to live in a nursing home. Whenever I phoned or visited her she would ask for news about our activities and various members.

Eleanor was a very quiet, sweet natured person. She never complained, never looked for thanks, never tried to draw attention to herself.

But she touched a lot of lives in her quiet gentle way. We all loved her, and we are sad to lose her.

Busy week

It has been such a busy week I was going to tell you about the concert Relle and I went to. (I just love Beethoven’s Violin Concerto!) About my nephew Robert’s seventh birthday and how his little brother Matthew is starting to turn into a chatterbox. About my little grandson Miles insisting that pasta grows on trees, and how Ben and Agnieszka have settled into their new home in California and their cats seem contented here with me. I’m just too tired to bother putting it all into words.

Catch up next time.

Oh…. I might be a bit late next week. Our World Vision Club is having a Street Stall and there’s so much to do.

Everyone knows now - I’m the dumbest member in our Toastmasters Club!

Our meeting started in a bit of a muddle last night, because a reporter from the local newspaper had come along to do a report on our club. She left soon after the meeting began, which was just as well, because it deteriorated from then on.

The Round Robin (where everyone speaks on the same topic for 30 seconds each) was a continuing story based on a new TV programme that I didn’t even know existed. My contribution was confused and way off topic.

For Table Topics we had to imagine we were politicians and tell what our party was doing about various issues. Everyone made either a thought provoking or hilarious political mini-speech. It was great - until it was my turn. I’m hopeless at role-playing and know absolutely nothing about politics. I stood there, completely blank, then turned it round and asked the others for their opinion. After a few suggestions from them, I just said “I agree.” and sat down.

I was now on a steep slide.

I had volunteered for the role of chairman, because I haven’t done it for over a year and badly needed the practice. Even with the printed procedure in front of me, I still got it all messed up and out of order.

Then when I gave my membership report, I mentioned that the men were outnumbered and they had better ask their friends along. One of them said his friends were all women. Someone said something about the women bringing the men in their life and I said “The man in my life is stuffed.”

There was a shocked silence. So I had to explain about Max, who is made out of old clothes and stuffed with Dacron filling. We could have done without that, because we had gone way over time.

I was also trying to help a new member sitting beside me, who was doing the timing. I pressed the wrong button on the stop watch and couldn’t work out how to get it back to zero again. Luckily the new member fixed it.

The Listening Critic asked me what was the title of the second speech. Up till that moment, I knew very well it was called “Section 24.” but did I say that? No, I said “Catch 22.”!!!!!

Did I mention we had four guests last night?!!

The wonderful thing about Toastmasters is, you can make a complete fool of yourself and still come back next meeting

Do you think I should?

Summer has gone at last. About time too - most of March was like a sauna. There was no transition period. I sweltered through March, then suddenly woke up one morning and started looking for a light cardigan.

April is always a busy month. For one thing, our World Vision Club always has a street stall just before Easter. This year it was the best we’ve had for years. Holding it on pension day helps of course, as our site is right near the bank. And there are always plenty of people out shopping just before a long weekend. We had so much stuff to sell, our stall took up the space in front of two stores rather than just the one that we had a permit for. I think we’d better get a permit for both sites next time.

We also had an Easter “Fun Morning” the week before Easter. We had a prize for the best Easter bonnet and played some games. Someone had donated a large black doll last month, and Mum had dressed her for a raffle. One of my friends who is very ill, really wanted to win that doll, so I bought lots of tickets in her name, hoping she would win.

And did she win? No.

It was won by a woman who had come to our last Jumble Sale and bought ONE ticket. She was so thrilled when I delivered the doll to her. She gave me a hug and took me inside to see her doll collection. The walls of her room were lined with shelves of dolls. Then she took me into her bedroom and showed me her black boy doll. He was a perfect partner for the doll she had won.

“God moves in mysterious ways,” she remarked as I was leaving.

“Yes,” I replied, thinking of all the tickets I had bought. “He certainly does!”

I spent part of Easter potting more plants. We had sold such a lot on our stall - and we’ll have another one in May, just before Mother’s Day. Of course, most of them won’t be ready by then, but as someone once said, “The best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago. The next best time is …today!”

Budl

He’s gone.The other night I set down four bowls for the cats, then I remembered with a painful jolt - I only have three cats now.

It has been heart breaking to watch Buddy’s tumour grow and to see him gradually become more quiet and withdrawn. Then last week he stopped eating and I knew I couldn’t let my little friend suffer anymore.

I asked the vet to make a house call. I didn’t want Buddy to have the trauma of travelling in the carry cage and waiting in a room full of barking dogs and wailing cats. So he was able to doze peacefully on his favourite armchair right up to the end.

Shea, Robert and Callum (my niece and nephews) used to love to hear stories about Buddy.

“What has Buddy been doing?” Shea would ask. Then she and the little boys would listen spellbound as I related Buddy’s latest exploit.

“Say it again!” Robert would say when I finished.

They loved to hear how Buddy once went for an unexpected ride on the roof of a friend’s car. Luckily our friend discovered him when he stopped at a service station halfway across the city.

Another day, Buddy managed to poke his head through the handle of a plastic shopping bag, then panicked when the bag filled with air as he ran and flapped menacingly behind him. I didn’t know cats could run so fast. He whizzed past me in a blurr and disappeared out of sight. I spent the rest of the day running around the neighbourhood asking everyone if they had seen a cat rush past with a bag on its head!

Then there was the day he skidded on the mat at the top of the stairs, become airborne and rode his magic carpet all the way to the bottom.

I miss my little friend. I miss having him bare his teeth and rub his sloppy grin up and down my leg and chew the furry tops of my slippers.

I miss him walking across the keyboard, rearranging my typing when I’m using the computer.

I miss him when I return home. I miss him waiting for me at the end of the driveway, then escorting me sooo slowly, with just the tip of his tail visible in front of the car bonnet as I drive into the garage.

I miss him sprawling on the roof of the car, rolling lazily out of reach when I try to get him off.

I miss him hurling himself against my door in the middle of the night, demanding to be let out - then in - then out again.

I miss him scratching the back of the lounge to get attention, with flattened ears and screwed up eyes as I reach for the spray bottle.

I miss him pulling down the curtains when I try to ignore him.

I miss him sidling against me when I eat, gently suggesting that good friends eat out of the same dish.

I miss him nudging my book out of my hands, demanding that I pay attention to him.

Most of all, I miss the feel of his soft warm body pressed close to mine and the deep rumbling purr that started at the slightest touch.

He was always there, under my feet, in my face, in my arms, exuding love.

He was my Buddy.