Bubbles

In answer to the quiz -

The thing you mustn't kill is a mockingbird (Harper Lee)

Owl can spell 'Tuesday' (A A Milne) congratulations to Mayerweien, who guessed Wednesday. Close enough (especially given the time difference between here and the US)

The man who dies rich dies disgaced (Andrew Carnegie)

And death shall have no dominion (Dylan Thomas)

Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi (Princess Leia, Star Wars). We had to have something a bit different, didn't we?

We had a lovely, child-centred service this morning, then my small friend Lucy brought her daddy here for lunch. Lucy knows that Margi's garden is a place for blowing bubbles and she had a brand new very big bubble blower today, so the ducks were entertained by Very Big Bubbles as Lucy twirled around. She took a liking to our stone Captain Padra, too, and blew bubbles all around him, which I think he found vastly entertaining. (If Fingal was watching, he'd find it hilarious.)

So having Bubbled the Captain, eaten lunch (well, some of it) and played with Hamilton Bear, she asked about the dolls and the cots, so we fetched them down from Daughter's Room. They are the doll's cot and the rocking cradle that my Dad made for daughter, and the dolls made for her by my godmother. The cradle still has the covers and drapes that Mum made for it when it was new.

Mum, Dad and Godmother probably didn't think about how long these beautifully made toys would last. They made them with time and skill, and gave them with love. But the results of that time, skill, and love are toys that are still being enjoyed over twenty years on and will be good for a lot longer. Perhaps next time Lucy might play with the dolls house Dad made for me when I was five. Bubbles are for an afternoon. Dolls houses are for life.