Bluebells

Well. Anyway. I must be feeling in much better form because I'm considering myriad and multitudinous blessings which I will instil into just one word  - bluebells.

Bluebells come just once a year, in the month of May, give or take ten days or so. Martha, Evie and I (and Ziggy and Maya) went to Portglenone Forest today. There was something new to be explored, an old burying ground right beside the forest. I'd never visited it before.

Evie was really delighted to see that Mr Ladybird (Mr?) was still hanging about since her last visit.

Always there are white sports in a bluebell field.

Bluebells and forget-me-nots, wondrous combination.

There is a gate that leads to Portglenone Forest. We explored then returned via the graveyard. On our way back, we met a young woman photographing the bluebells. I said to her, at the top of this path there is a glorious old graveyard smothered in bluebells and forget-me-mots. She followed us there. Thanked us. And took pictures.

Blessings, a lovely Spring day, Martha and Evie, bluebells, forget-me-nots and sharing with a fellow photographer.

A Night At The Carol Service

Have just come back from my granddaughter's carol service which was held in a nearby church.

Good - Miss Martha excelled herself in the singing department.

Not Good - Flipping teacher kept standing in front of my special child waving her arms around so I only caught glimpses of the darling.

Good - All the children sang beautifully.

Not So Good - The 'carols' sounded more like middling pop songs. I like traditional carols, such as Away In The Manger', 'Adeste Fideles' and so on but expect Latin would be too big an ask in a Presbyterian Church.

Quite Good - The church was comfortable and roomy.

Less Good - It was far too warm. I wonder did it have one of those biomass boilers that are causing such a scandal these days.

Good - We all got a Benediction at the end. You can never have enough Benedictions.

Less Good - Too much Christianity.

Not Good At All - Hardly any Paganism. Just the one Christmas Tree at the entrance.

Good - Free entry.

Not Good - At exit begging bowls brandished by little children.

Better - No pressure.

Counting my Blessings

I note that many of my fellow bloggers use their blogs to have a good old moan. Boys, boys, we pass this way but once (I think) so enjoy yourselves. That glass is not half empty, it’s half full.

Moaning is OK now and again. What else are friends and fellow bloggers for? Look at me. I'm fat, frizzy and fifty plus, I've a chin full of spots and dodgy knees. Two of them. But do you hear me complaining? No sirree. Instead I count my blessings.

Three wonderful daughters, all with lovely guys and all left home. (Yippee)

Two of the best dogs in the world. I have a bastard of a cat but so what? Me complain? Not on your Nelly.

A room with a view.

Part-time work that pays OK dosh.

Some excellent friends.

Bert.

Also – I live in the free world. It might not be perfection but it’s not Chad, Iraq or North Korea.