Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

The blog title partly relates to the Professor taking things one day at a time, but so far things are going along fine. What is really annoying me at the moment is the Met Office. For about a week, I’ve had the experience of getting up the weather forecast and seeing that today is orange (’weather warning, Be Prepared’) tomorrow is yellow, and the rest of the week’s green - only when we get to tomorrow, the day’s orange, the next day’s yellow, etc. etc.. Normality keeps on receding into the future. This morning, all the gutters suddenly fell off the front of the house, something about which we can do absolutely nothing. We had the excellent company of the Northern Gentleman from Sunday night to this morning: I had to go to work on Monday, but on Tuesday, after I’d gone round Turriff sorting things out, including buying a new mattress, since we might be seeing a lot of it, I got back, and knowing that someone sensible was in charge, went to bed and slept for twenty hours, which made me feel a great deal better. Only five more days.

3 Responses to “Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow”

  1. Sam Watson Says:

    An email from Chris, a few days ago, hinted at something mysterious and untoward going on in your environs; she had gotten word from Nick Graham. This morning, I’ve followed the link to your blog and, via its more recent entries, have gotten The News.

    In light of your unexpected recent adventures, here is a story – an utterly true one – which might bring a bit of winter warmth to you and the recovering Professor. One of the five stalwart families in our little village of McClellanville is the Lelands; they are kin to our version of the Grahams. The whole lot of them are more Scottish than the Scots, or at least more frugal – if such a thing can be imagined.

    Until he died in his mid 90’s a couple years ago, the patriarch of the Leland clan was Weewa (his one child, Rutledge, has been Mayor of McClellanville for more than thirty years, the longest-serving mayor anywhere in South Carolina.) There are two stories of how Weewa got the nickname that carried him through life. One is that, as a small boy, he couldn’t say “Leland”; “Weewa” was as close as he could come. The other story is that from the beginning he was “the wee one” of the family. Certainly he was a small man — leprechaun-like, one might say, except that leprechauns hail from that Other Island. Perhaps both stories are true.

    Anyway. A recent lunchtime found Anne-Knight and me at Sarah Nell’s, formally known as the Pinckney Street Kitchen. Sitting with us was Aaron Baldwin, who is kin to the Lelands. (All the five founding families here are intimately connected; ours is a small place.) The topic of conversation turned to Weewa’s legendary frugality. For instance the man, though he had become many times a millionaire, wore the cheapest shoes he could find, and he kept them on his feet with rubber bands around the arch, the rubber bands coming from the morning’s newspaper and being, therefore in a sense, free.

    Aaron told this story of his “Uncle Weewa.” Driving alone through country roads one day, Weewa thought he was feeling the symptoms of a heart attack. He had heard that at such a time, one should take aspirin, but he had no aspirin with him. So Weewa pulled over at a country store to buy some aspirin. But the only aspirin they had, came in a small, flat tin rather than a bottle. And that made each tablet cost so much more, that Weewa told the clerk to keep his aspirin; he would take his chances with the heart attack.

    I don’t know just when that episode occurred. But Weewa lived, as I say, into his mid ‘90’s; somewhere we have a photo of him, at 90+, happily arcing in the tall child’s swing that now stands empty in the front yard of his modest house.

    Well now, you tell the Professor that story. And do assure him that there are many, many swings yet to be swung, at Burnside House and, should we ever be able to get you here, in McClellanville as well. Our thoughts and best wishes are with you both.

    Sam

  2. cp Says:

    If there should be a contest for best stroy on the blog, this is surely the front-runner.

    Now a swing for the warmer months?

  3. Jane Says:

    Someone lovely gave us a hammock but we haven’t ever worked out where we could swing it. We could put a swing on the big beech, but I think swinging out over the bank and the drive would delight children but give parents the heeby jeebies.

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