Like an English Novel? Early Morning Thoughts.

 It is raining and cool this morning, which is too bad, as today is our last day at the event, and a stadium day, which is usually a kind of dress up day, as we are just watching show jumping. We are up early in our little London house taking turns in the bathroom, making tea one at a time in the narrow galley kitchen and looking for the power converters (we have two between the five of us) to charge camera, phone and computer batteries. I am about to take my daily jog down to get the tickets (and a coffee) before we leave to help Grandma Joanne walk across the common and catch the little “mobility” car that helps her cruise the mile or so through the park to the main gates and the hospitality tent where she likes to say hello to everyone, and today may watch the jumping on the TV out of the rain. I am excited for the jumping, and have a good feeling for Karen, but this is also our last day all together, we break up tonight and tomorrow when my housemates head home. It will   be hard to part with my new friends. Over the week we have become, as Gill says “quite close actually.” I keep thinking that this is a great basis for a novel (it is so much like one.) We have learned so much about each other at the strangest moments, the way I suppose people in a lifeboat do-- --one lost a child, another is living with breast cancer, and another is alone and makes her own her family out of her friends. I may have come here for the Olympics, but I’m leaving with a lot more than a London 2012 T-shirt. Do you think this is what Grandma Joanne meant when she said you must talk to people? You must make an effort?



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