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An escapologist, friends and Happy Sundays

Escapology is the art of freeing oneself from confinement and an escapologist is one who practices this skill. In Bertie Baggins's case, the skill was practised four times yesterday. We were alerted to the first, when a neighbour phoned to say that he had been contacted about a yellow lab loose in the village and wondered if it was one of ours. It was, and a rather timid, 'I'm-a-bit-lost' and 'Golly!-I'm-so-pleased-to-see-you' Bertie Baggins was led home. Bravado returned on reaching the garden and he promptly showed us how he had escaped under the gate: commando style - belly scraping the ground, as he squeezed beneath the wire.

So we repaired the gate. And he appeared on the drive. Outside the gate.

So Littlest and I walked round the garden and found two holes in the fence. Which we repaired with chicken wire and bamboo poles - yes! it was a bit of a botch, but the light was fading.

We went to pick the last of the apples from a tree near the gate. And Bertie Baggins appeared on the drive. If dogs can smile, he was grinning. He was winning this game!

But not for long. Humans can be very bad losers, particularly dog-owning-humans at risk of losing their dogs. Tricked with a lump of bread, Bertie Baggins spent a stint in 'chokey,' while we went out with torches, in search of holes.




Another hole, another repair and a rather disgruntled Bertie Baggins. His career as an escapologist has been halted. So far ...



From chasing dogs to chasing memories. I haven't been back to any of my schools. I haven't really kept in touch with any school friends. I haven't seen any teachers. But I do read the newsletters that arrive annually and remind me that I once was young. Was school as intense an experience for us as it appears to be for our children? When they're not physically at school, they are in second-to-second, blanket connection with all of their friends - they tap away 'chatting' in the car, over breakfast, while they do their homework and in bed. Every detail of their life is captured in fleeting photographs and miniscule comments. They are masters of linguistic brevity, indignant ululation and gibberish. Theirs is a powerful community made strong by the relative technological illiteracy of their elders. I look at them and the bonds they have made with their friends and I struggle to imagine anything breaking them. Even if they move away, which I did, I suspect social networking will maintain relationships in a way that letters and wired telephones could never do. Or maybe I was just a very bad friend ...

Last night, after far too may decades, I had dinner with an old school friend. And it was great. In appearance, we had both changed (well, you would after that many years! And humiliatingly, I briefly didn't recognise him when he unexpectedly opened the door to us ... I really hope the delay in my eye-to-brain-to-aaah!-recognition reaction was of sufficient brevity for him not to notice). But what hadn't changed was the easy camaraderie of a shared past and common values born of common experience. We talked into the wee small hours and time passed effortlessly.

Another thing that is ffortless is the sharing of food with good friends

- wonderful purple carrots and red pepper to roast


- caramelised onion and goats cheese 'tart' or 'flan' prior to baking




and fruit for a pear, bramble and gooseberry crumble, before ...




and after pictures




"Effortless" because feeding friends doesn't feel like a hassle, I keep recipes simple and I cheat where possible (the flan/tart pastry was from a packet).

And also because Bertie Baggins and Four-legged-friend woke me at 6.10 a.m., so I had plenty of time.




Time and friends made for a very Happy Sunday.







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