You can’t beat a good digression and last month Edward Cholmondeley-Clarke gave us a world-class deviation in his talk to raise funds for the Benevolent Society of St Patrick.
My grandfather was shot through the back of his neck by a sniper at the Somme. He was fortunate not to bleed to death. Three other Bellews died and have no graves.
On the whole I had an idyllic childhood at Barmeath. I enjoyed the company of my mother, my grandparents and especially my much older siblings, though they were seldom around.
Last month, my theatre-on-the-doorstep LAMDA put on Design for Living, a Noël Coward play I’ve never seen but I was too slow off the mark to get tickets.
Oh dear, I’ve gone into reverse. Today’s post is about Saturday evening. Over many years I have had memorable meals in some pretty swanky restaurants, often paid for by a special friend.
I am staying for a few days in a village close to Burford in west Oxfordshire to explore the locality. Yesterday afternoon we went for a circular walk in Sherborne Park.
I was lucky enough to go to the old opera house at Wexford, in a converted cinema, about twelve years ago. This morning I’d like to introduce you to Margaret Tinsley who can claim with justification to be a genuine Wexford veteran and is a welcome Guest Blogger.
Sated with opera and black pudding we drove up the M11 to Dublin on Monday morning. Six of us in a hire car with our bags is cosy and, sportingly, the General took the rear gunner’s seat at the back. We met the Judge and Mr and Mrs Dog Lover for lunch at the Merrion.