Missionary Work

With apologies to our Cornish contingent but it is an old Devonshire joke. If you go down to Cornwall you need innoculations and passports and do missionary work. Well today we crossed the border in order to take Mother down to stay with my godparents at their house in a little village just outside Padstow. Mother and Peg have known each other for over 60 years. They met when they were both students at what is now known as the London School of Fashion. Pegs was Mother's bridesmaid and Mother would have been Peg's bridesmaid if she hadn't been heavily pregnant with my sister at the time. Now well into their eighties they celebrated their Diamond Anniversary this week. Friends from the golf club clubbed together and gave them a voucher for lunch at Rick Steins Seafood Restaurant which by all accounts was a very boozy affair. They sat down at one and staggered out at 4. They never had any children of their own but are well loved and well respected members of the community. They both love golf but unfortunately as is often the case Frank is one of the last gentlemen left so he is constantly surrounded by women, but I don't think he minds. They are living out their lives in a rather dilapidated house - Frank wont pay tradesmen to do what he thinks he should be doing, even if he can't do it!
We had a fish and chip lunch and then had to leave because we didn't want to leave Bo for too long. He's rarely left at all these days, and as he's getting a bit frail I was worried in case he fretted.
Well that was my day - and we'll do it all again next week when we go back to collect her.