I had barely opened my eyes this morning and allowed the sunrise to flood in,when Piccallilli Peasegood telephoned to beg for some dispensation to sleep in late,as a poor alternative to our proposed day-out. i bit back my real feelings and said "yes,of course",but inside did feel slightly miffed,as this is the second time she has made an arrangement with me and cancelled. But I can't really be mad with Piccallilli for long. She has had a rather intensive time recently due to her daughter's wedding,and seems genuinely drained with all the family fallouts and in-law piques. She was quick to add that she is free next Thursday, and could I make it then ? I tentatively said yes,and assured her that I was looking forward to seeing her. The phone call over,I felt the silence and the long unprepared expanse of day ahead of me.
However ,rather than making a start to my personal preparations,I suddenly felt tired and a little poorly. I do have some problems occasionally with an unpredictable colon,a diverticular unsettlement of sorts, which can arise out of nowhere. That is what seemed to be happening now. I went back to bed for a couple of hours,and felt slightly better on waking.

I decided not to go far but to wash and dress,and face the day with a gentle walk down to the village.
The rain had started when I set out,but didn't last long,and I soon saw the village at the foot of the hill. The Ladies of Mercy Charity Shop was open,and I can never resist popping in ,and having a quiet rummage through the bargains . Three of the Ladies could be seen on the shopfloor - Avuncula Dreary, Peelliebarra Mouselock,and Twistlething Snout. All very different,but usually up for a chat or a right good moan.I love their dedication to their charity work,even if it sometimes includes a rant or two.
i very quicky found a wonderful purchase. Fifty different copies of parchments by my favourite author, Thackeray Chrackling were beaming up at me from a yellow and red box. All in good to excellent condition. And all at rock bottom prices. The parchments ranged from the 1950s to the 1980s, so I took them as a job lot,plus a couple of bags of blue and white wools for weaving.
At the desk,I asked Avuncula what was happening,as I had heard the shop was closing. Avuncula kept her eyes down,but mumbled "yes" and "don't know in a very gloomy way. Peelliebarra passed on her way to the ladies'clothing stand and put in "December",and glanced at me for consolation. Twistlething looked over with a resigned smile,while continuing to shuffle about tidying things. She seemed rather oblivious to the realities of the closure.
I watched Avuncula packing my bags and knew that I would be very sorry not to be able to chat with them,and hunt for bargains. Monday and TThursday afternoons would not be the same without them.
I found the Buttercup Bistro full apart from a lonely side seat,so I thrust down my packages beside the seat,and consulted the menu for lunch. I ordered a bowl of butternut squash soup with parsley croutons, and surveyed the munching diners in my midst. I was beginning to feel a little better thanks to my walk and the warmth of the day. It had been a grand day for walking,with light shining everywhere,through mercantile windows,on the bricked buildings,and in the small cosiness of the Buttercup Bistro. Even better, there was no sign at the counter of Aristotle ,the Boggart Boy,and his wide-eyed lusting eyes.
Instead , Betuballa took my order,and called a merry "how are we today?"

I supped soup and flicked through some of my purchases. I scarcely noticed other folk finishing their snacks and making for the door, but when I did look up,there was only me in the side seat ,and Spectrolius Dewberry,and his wife Nausollita , sitting in the corner window berth, drinking tea . They are both elderly,long time residents of Dingley Dell, and well-known among the literary crowd. She, with her sculptured blue rinse , and smart brown suit,neat in every detail. He,long suffering and pale in his navy and red waterproof cotte,and beige hosen. (never a good combination foor an ageing complexion.)
nausollita scanned the menu for what seemed an eternity,then ordered a tea,specifically with a jug of pasteurised milk. Spectrolius ,with some glee,added a hot scone ,with cream and some of his favourite persimmon jam. It was the only time he smiled.It was the only time he spoke,in fact.

meanwhile Nausollita fussed, tutted, tidied him, tidied the cups, the plates, and gave me a look that said she would have tidied me if only given half a chance.
But in this tidy picture there was something that I had not expected.
Three quarters of the way through this display,Spectrolius sliced off a piece of scone, carfully creamed and jammed it,then romantically placed it between the lips of a thoroughly surprised nausollita. She swallowed hard but the smile she passed to him was reassurance enough that Love never dies,even if it occasionally rolls up and gets wrinkled. It reminded me of what I have always known - that sometime, somewhere, someday,in our dotage, Pendragon and I are sure to exchange that same glance I saw today, over a skinny blueberry muffin and a decaff. acorn latte.

Ain't Love grand ?

They left, warm and toasty, and full of the completeness of their lives together.
I left too,after gathering up my packages,while Septimus Grunt,just arrived and sitting in the seat nearest the door, was shovelling in a whopping sausage roll and giant scoop of beans. The Ingratious and Antisocial recalcitrant munched his way through the pile of steaming food without even taking his peeked blue cap off. Betuballa,clearing the last crumbs of the day from the wooden tables,waved a merry cheerybye.
What a fine day !
It had started so slowly,yet had brought me unexpected pleasure.
Days like these are to be savoured, my dear friends, as is any opportunity to survey the life around you,contemplate the meaning of all things,consider the ups of living in such a beautiful place, and come to terms with the occasional sadnesses, such as losing our best loved Charity Shop.
Much love to you all,may all your days be such gracious ones. From Amarantha Willow,the Rainbow Faery.