Meeting Bill and Carol

This week - this month - is hurtling by.  What have we been doing?  Mostly Metal detectorising in the case of Captain B.

My Monday morning was spent in taking Jean to the doctors over a minor medical emergency. She was at the meeting last night and all is OK. In fact, we managed some calls on Tuesday too.  And, all being well, I am taking her to get her flu shot on Saturday.

We - Captain Butterfly and me - met up with American friends from our expat years in a pub near Southampton on Wednesday and had lunch together.  We found it was 24 years since we had last seen each other. We live on different continents, but Carol and I worked together many years ago on Planet Expat.

It was so nice to see them. And we recognised each other!  Which says something.  Not sure if its about how young we all still look, or how bad our eyes are these days.  Either way, great.   Col had found a pub that they could easily get to after the left the IOW ferry and was en route to their friends in Dorset.

We only had a couple of hours with them, but it was so lovely to see them.  And to see them enjoying their well-earned retirement so much. And it brought back a lot of memories. We lived on Planet Expat a long time.

I got to the Field Service meeting on Thursday morning and did first calls with one of my siblings, down by the Station.  We placed quite a few little leaflets about the hope for the future - the Biblical hope, the sure hope of the restored earthly Paradise. 

And we sure hope that people will read them and think seriously and urgently about it.

The meeting last night provided another little marker in time. I had to put my lights on to drive TO the Hall.

We are getting the tail end of StormSomething, over from the Americas, and it was suddenly colder too. So another summer is gone, and yet another year is winding down.

And poor Captain B came limping back from a long day out in the Field - the farmer's field, with the detectorists.  "Lets face it, we are not as young as we were." I said, by way of consolation.

Usually he responds instantly with "Speak for yourself Miss!".   But this time he didn't.   Oh dear oh dear oh dear.  How can my London boy be getting old?    How wrong this all is.