Mamalade

I’m beginning to think August is not my favourite month. Oh, the weather is beautiful – almost the end of winter, crisp sunny days with a promise of Spring. But I always seem to get the flu in August, along with everyone else.

A typical conversation in August begins, “How are you?”

“Oh, I’ve had the flu…”

“Who hasn’t?”

It’s no use looking for sympathy in August.

It has been a nasty flu this year. It drags on for weeks and weeks and makes everything seem like too much effort – like updating a Newsletter, for instance. Each time I sit at the computer to do it, I stare vacantly at the screen for a while before giving in and playing yet another game of Spider Solitaire….

I’ve reverted back to the lazy habit of leaving the computer room window open a few inches at the bottom so that I don’t have to keep getting up to let the cat in and out. Oscar is too big and hasn’t attempted it since he almost got stuck, but Ollie flits in and out every 10 minutes or so. It suits us both nicely and probably helps to keep her fit.

This morning I was still lying in bed with Ollie beside me thinking “I really must get up in a minute,” ( I mean I was thinking that, not Ollie – I’m sure those kind of thoughts never enter that cat’s mind) when I noticed a tabby cat slinking past my bedroom doorway. Oscar is a tabby cat, but it was not Oscar!

“Billy!” I exclaimed. He belongs to someone in the neighborhood and I hadn’t seen him for weeks. He must have come in through the window. Billy ran into the computer room with Ollie and me after him. He jumped up at the window and struggled to get through. He’s grown since I last saw him. He got stuck and he wriggled frantically while Ollie whaled into his back end.

I still have the window open. I don’t think Billy will be in a hurry to pay another visit.

Myrtle the Turtle

“Myrtle the Turtle.” That’s what we called her. When I first started going to the little church I knew most of the older ladies by their surnames. We were pretty formal back then. Then someone started a Friendship Club. Soon we were all on first name basis as we played board games, talked and laughed together. The quiet little white haired lady whom I had only known slightly introduced herself as Myrtle. “Myrtle the Turtle!” she laughed.

Myrtle put her heart into everything she did, including the games we played at Friendship Club. We always had more fun when Myrtle was present.

Last week Myrtle was called “home” after a long illness. Although it was sad to think she is no longer with us, it was impossible not to rejoice because of her strong faith and her wonderful life.

Because of this wretched flu, I was not well enough to attend her funeral – not really a funeral, they called it a “Celebration of her life” and I know it would have been a real celebration service because of the life she had led.

I spent much of last week phoning old friends to let them know about Myrtle. Sadly most of them are also very frail now, but we shared some wonderful memories over the phone. Memories of Myrtle, and the things we did at the church and ’specially the Friendship Club. “I can still hear Myrtle’s laugh,” said one of them. “Remember her recipes!” said another. Immediately the taste of Myrtle’s orange cake and her golden fruit cake came back to me. So I have put them on my recipe page – in memory of Myrtle the Turtle.