17 May 2018
Our internet connection is flipping on and off, so I’ve decided to use Word and upload later. We had noticed an advertisement for a farmers’ market to be held in the hall next to the cathedral on Sunday. We took Mum in the car and wandered in. There were only a few stalls but quite a variety of produce. We bought an apple pie and a rhubarb crumble from one lady and a meat pie from another. The swedes and parsnips on the vegie stall were enormous compared with Australian ones. The plants outside were tempting but Mum has no room on her windowsill for any more. I play chess with her most mornings or try to. Mum was in a chess club for many years so there is no contest. The most I can do is delay the inevitable. She bemoans the fact that there is no one to play with in the home. In the afternoons we drive to Peel promenade and have an ice cream. The locally made brand is popular with tourists and locals alike. They even have a non-dairy alternative for me. The shop also sells home-made luxury chocolates, the sort you only buy in ones. The sea breeze is sharp, so we sit in the car and watch children on the beach; they are oblivious to the chill. A few holidaymakers are sitting in coats and scarves, determined to enjoy their annual seaside trip. The bay curves from the 11thcentury castle on the left past the cluster of houses and hotels to the green hills hedged with gorse, golden at this time of year. Ancient drystone walls are beneath the gorse, enclosing fields odd-shaped centuries ago. A breakwater extends from the castle out into the sea, protecting the bay from the winter storms and creating a sheltered harbour for the fishing boats. A seal appears when the boats come in, hoping for a fish tossed overboard.