Miss Foxy – we’re pretty sure she is a young vixen but we are no experts!

Superb kippers for lunch so their bones and leftovers will make a deliciously smelly supper for her.

We were out early this morning walking Teddy, Mum’s dog.

The land around Mum’s house was originally part of the hunting estate close to Windsor Forest.  It is connected by a road called Nine Mile Road that King George III, as part of an expansion programme to the rides, built for Queen Anne to more easily facilitate hunting in Windsor Forest.

Now it is a golf-course.

Like Windsor Great Park, oak trees grow everywhere. Some are very old.

This is from a young tree that Mum “saved” when it was a sprouting acorn and is now tall and well established.  If anyone wants “ancient” oak acorns, please say.  I can pop them in my pocket and you can grow your own oak tree. Mum’s tree proves it is easily achievable.

So that’s me.  My car has been given a vague diagnosis – “an intermittent fault” which is the worst kind in my book.  800 miles to drive home wondering if it will or won’t get there safely.

Nothing much to report except I have a lovely 5 minutes of film of Miss Foxy and I can’t upload it (but I will keep battling).

(edited to say “done it!”)

Meanwhile, I spent the morning continuing my phone battle, mended every cassette recorder/cd player (don’t ask!) and am still waiting to hear from the garage.  I can’t decide if silence about my wretched car is good or bad.

Tomorrow I fully intend to take photos of the family photo albums for the transcripts of diaries of my Great Great Aunt Kate.  Mum has them and I have been busy weeding through them as well as boxes of photos, reading the backs and finding where they fit in each year.  It is lovely to see the photos now I know more of the story and it will be good to add them to the story – makes it even more real.

So that’s me. Sorry for not much news. Still you can enjoy Mum’s garden as much as I am.

First thing, my wee car went off to the garage with the message “I don’t want to see it again, until it is deemed safe and roadworthy”.  This morning was then spent fighting with BT (changing the account into my mother’s name and trying to clear up the billing mess that is Broadband).  All I can say is for a communications company, BT are ridiculously difficult to talk to!

Little Ted is as always a joy.

Mum’s garden is beginning to think it is Autumn but is still going strong in colour.

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This is the Eden rose in its second flowering this year.  No scent but a beautiful shape – flower and buds – and perfect colour.

The huge and marvellous catalpa tree is about to produce its beans and then drop them everywhere along with its leaves.

I have propped my phone on the gate post in case Mr Fox appears (oooh, I hope he does!)

So, let’s see what the garage say.  I am not holding my breath but at least I am safe.  I was very worried.

A horrible eventful day.  It started well. Floss and I found her accommodation easily (we had learned our lesson – don’t listen to the Sat-Nav, he tells lies) and en route stopped off briefly to sight see.

This is the view almost from her house. Not bad really.

I tried to tell Floss about the Severn bore. I am not sure she understood my description. I wonder if she will see it?

Goodbyes said, sat-nav (grrr!) set, I drove off to my mother’s – one and a half hour down the M4. I was trundling along happily when two rather important and necessary looking lights appeared. Panicking, and thinking the car now felt “different”, I managed to get safely to a service station and park up.

And with that, my brain froze. I had no idea where I was so, after a good slug of Rescue Remedy, I phoned the RAC who wanted to know where I was.  I had no idea but I used What3Words –  mine were “Tower, Crank, Depended”.  A bit of a wait and I was rescued, sort of.  Many hours later, I have limped to stay with my mother, feeling utterly shattered.  The car is not well. That I do know. But come Monday, I will phone a garage and see what they can do.

Well me and my ancient sat-nav now loathe each other.  I have discovered that he lies, can turn himself off when most needed, his voice gets tetchier and tetchier and hasn’t heard of half of Bristol’s postcodes. He even tells me to pull a uey when things are going badly! Unhelpful.  We have had words, possibly almost caused a few accidents and I am now seriously considering replacing him.

Or, as Floss remarked, despite not having an old fashioned paper map, we are still enjoying the full experience!

Bristol is pretty, in parts, if you are living in the rich expensive bit. The architecture is truly stunning and they have a nice suspension bridge.  There are tiny narrow streets with cars parked (badly/thoughtlessly) on either side. The roads are terrible – potholes and lumpy.  Cycling would be certain suicide.

Today was spent finding Floss’ new abode (three attempts, thank you Mr Sat-Nav), emptying Tesco’s, and then spending a few happy hours in a massive Chinese supermarket – Floss’ idea of heaven.

Tomorrow, I am back on the road again.