Moon Walk

Three Good Things things to blog about today - first and most important, Clyde has returned from the vet and is absolutely fine. Hallelujah! He'd lost a few ounces in weight since his last visit 6 years ago which is only to be expected as he's pretty ancient, and needed a worm tablet because he's a scavenger, but otherwise passed all his medical checks with flying colours. I'm sure the vet thinks I'm an over-anxious mother, but I'm sooo relieved. Brought him home and gave him loads of cuddles and chicken breast and now he's stalking about in the garden looking smug. Phew! The vet did say to bring him back if I'm even slightly worried about him - which of course I will - but I'll give him a couple of days to see if there's any changes in him and I will not worry... I will not worry... I will not worry...



Second Good Thing, I've finished the My Weekly stories and sent them off. Will now wait with everything crossed and hope that they pass muster and in the meantime get on with the second Woman's Weekly story and Moonshine.


And the third Good Thing? Well, it's the anniversary of the first-ever moon walk. 39 years ago today I watched that moon landing. I was living in Jersey and we stayed up all night, crowded round the telly, to watch the most amazing thing I've ever seen. We had a moon-landing all-night party, and the excitement when Neil Armstrong did his "one small step..." speech was unbelievable. And no, don't tell me that it didn't happen. I've heard all the rumours and seen all the programmes - and okay, I'm usually a sucker for any conspiracy theory going (JFK, Elvis, Princess Diana) because they're such great stories and fulfil the writer's mantra of "what if?" - but do not try to tell me the moon landing was faked. Just don't. For me, it epitomised that truly fantastic year in my life. Oh, God bless Bryan Adams for being brilliant enough to provide me with my own personal anthem - The Summer of 69 - yes, it really was the best year of my life, too, Bryan...


Not only living and working in Jersey which I adored, but the moon landing, the birth of Concorde - I was lucky enough to be at Toulouse to see the maiden flight - and the Investiture which I loved because it was all so Pomp and Circumstance and seemed to herald something rather wonderfully historic in that truly wonderful time of change. Prince Charles was our age and it seemed that we could really rule the world. Huh - nearly forty years on and look what a mess we've made of it! And poor Charles still isn't the Young King we all thought he would be...


Ooh, a bit of a reflective blog today - must be getting old...