Piece By Piece

This is a warning to all those of you who are blissfully unaware of the perils of an ostensibly harmless pastime:  JIGSAWS ARE DANGEROUS.  Yes, dangerous.  They encourage you to sit down and stay indoors, seizing up; they are time-consuming, bloody annoying and addictive.  And they take up a lot of room.

Still, there’s no denying it.  I’m hooked.  The other morning, in between doing some blog, making mushroom soup, watching Rip-Off Britain (older women working tirelessly) on scams and trying to explain the intricacies of my next-door neighbour’s set-up to a young woman from the council’s planning department, I put three pieces in the Isles of Scilly.  Yes, a whole three.  And I was ecstatic.

Some readers have been a tad scathing about my progress but as a beginner I feel I’m doing ok.  Only problem is:  if this one is ever finished, there’ll be another, and another ad infinitum until I keel over.

Mo’s back and she’s got plenty to say on the golf front, so I’ll just say congrats to Nelly Korda, world No 1 and LPGA Rolex Player Of The Year, on a wonderful season, ditto Lydia Ko, the latest Hall of Famer and, of course Jeeno Thitikul, who won the CME Group Tour Championship and a first prize of $4 million.  The young Thai, still only 21, snatched the season-ending title from America’s Angel Yin with an eagle, birdie finish.

I must admit I was pulling for Angel, who’s been one of my favourites ever since I saw her at the AIG Women’s Open at Walton Heath.  It was the way she behaved with her pro-am partners and the crowd, engaging and entertaining, just what you’d hope for.  And not something every professional golfer understands, no names, no pack drill.

Angel inspiring the next generation at Walton Heath a couple of years ago.

Thitikul, still in shock, was asked what she’d be doing with the money and said, “Spending it!  But don’t tell my parents.”  Brilliant.

Talking of spending, I went on a bit of a splurge earlier this week, albeit without the backing of a few million in the bank.  There was a trip to Costco, which may be good value but is never cheap and in the run up to Christmas, there was stocking up to do and that included presents as well as the basics.  The queues at the check-outs were long and winding but I made it through relatively unscathed – unlike the bank account.

As I was leaving, by sheer good luck the queues for the petrol station – 124.9 for ordinary unleaded – were no longer clogging up the dual carriageway, so I nipped in to fill up the tank and headed home:  Costco conquered, customer cream crackered.

Then, the next day, at my suggestion, three pals and I headed to Nottingham on a shopping trip.  It was my idea, for my benefit but luckily for me my friends are always up for a jaunt and miraculously we found a date that suited us all.  We took the train and wonder of wonders, it all ran smoothly.

Once in Nottingham, not somewhere any of us knows well, we worked out how to use the trams – with the help of locals, amused and bemused by the cluelessness of a quartet of oldies on a day out to the big city; checked out Lakeland; selected a  coffee shop out of the rain; and, eventually, found ourselves heading in the right direction for Megan Crook Textiles, the object of the exercise.

It’s a small workshop, specialising in bright, vibrant colours and zany patterns and we were pretty much left to our own devices as we browsed the rails.  My personal shoppers were patience personified as they critiqued colour choices and sizes and did a brilliant job of helping me spend what remained of my money.  I can’t thank them enough.  Their good humour and tolerance were above and beyond.

A happy shopper.

We celebrated at a Chinese restaurant nearby that had been recommended by a grandson who’d been at uni in Nottingham and the food more than lived up to expectations.  Delicious.

The train back to Tamworth pulled in on time, just as we arrived on the platform, we got seats together, there were no delays and the whole outing could hardly have gone better.  Amazing.

Proper tourists at Nottingham station. No idea where the purple cat and its luggage are going.  The gang are heading home, job done.  Purrfect.

Back in Lichfield, we’ve had a new lake in the park thanks to sundry storms, so the swans and labradors are happy – and the photographers, if not all the parkies, who can’t get at a lot of their equipment because the compound is cut off.  I’m rooting out the walking pole for depth-testing purposes – even waders might not be protection enough and the mid-length wellies are definitely out of their element.   It’s too cold for the swimming cozzie, so lots of diversions are in order because so many paths are impassable – or invisible.

Perhaps we should just hunker down with our jigsaws until the waters recede….

Looks beautiful but it’s a flood not a lake.