Sad, inevitable of course and understandable to us adults. But to granddaughter Bay, just seven a month ago, perplexing and worrying. Sophie found her in floods of tears. ‘Mummy’, she sobbed, ‘does that mean we’re all going to die now?’
But as we get over the shock life can return to some sort of normality and Bay can go back to school reassured that her days are less numbered than she first thought. And I can return to the blog I was going to write ten days ago. But before I do, here’s how Alfriston gently marked the Queen’s death, from muffled bell to simple window displays:
We’ve had our own sadness here too: dear Inky, our black dog, had to be put down at the end of July after suffering a severe injury to her spine. Goodness knows how she did it but we suspect she careered into a tree at high speed during one of her many nocturnal outings and a day or so later something happened to turn it fatal. It’s left Taz (the ginger one) bereft (and us too) so a replacement (if that’s ever possible) is on the cards. Meantime one of many memories: Inky muscling in on a garden visitor’s photo-op of Taz:
At the beginning of summer we celebrated the Queen’s Platinum Jubilee. That seems an age away now but since then, here in Westdean and beyond, we’ve seen sun, heat, sun, rain, sun, heat, even more heat, drought…you get the picture. Maybe pictures tell the story best.
