Last month I rambled on about the extreme weather, along with my memories of the long, hot summer of 1976. Who’d have guessed that, as I sit here on the second Sunday of August, I’d still be suffering from the continuing heat with at least a further week of sunshine forecast? Rain is now but a very distant memory.
One thing guaranteed to break the weather, however, is my going away on holiday, so be prepared for the deluge.
When the next ‘Forty Days…’ comes out, I shall be sailing the ocean blue on a cruise with my family. Sadly, it seems we may be looking at just the charred remains of Spain as we dock at the various ports we are visiting. I know wildfires are one of nature’s means of renewal, but the loss of life and livelihoods is devastating.
Even as I was filling the birdbaths a few minutes ago (Birdbaths are very popular with wasps this summer, I notice), I saw the traffic was being diverted off the A31 via the slip road at the bottom of my street. Enquiring of a neighbour why that was so, I was told that there is currently a fire in the forest closing the A31 towards Southampton. Fingers crossed it is soon extinguished.
A true Brit, I can ramble on about the weather ad nauseam, but time for a change of subject, methinks.
Some of you will have been aware that recently Ringwood held celebrations to mark 800 years of Ringwood Market. Indeed, many of you may have come and joined in the celebrations. For my part, I was up early helping to set out chairs for the service which was to be held in the marketplace. I took a photo when we’d finished and proclaimed it as ‘all my own work’! It wasn’t really. There were quite a few volunteers from the various churches.
When my children were young, we lived in a town in Norfolk and market day was quite an event. The cattle market had closed, but market day was still the time and place for everyone from the outlying villages to come to town to socialise and transact business. The town would be packed.
When my son was taken by his aunt to London for the very first time, he surveyed the throng at a major London terminus during rush hour, and opined, “Auntie, I think it must be market day.”
In Ringwood, when I first arrived in 1994, I would avoid Ringwood on a Wednesday. People would be parking on the verges and the roundabouts. The town would be jam-packed. It was the highlight of the week (at least for some… crowds, I fear, are not my scene). Market day was an event!
Sadly, Ringwood Market is no longer what it was, and neither is market day. Will it be lost? Only time will tell. There is a small group of people trying very hard to revive Ringwood Market and perhaps we should all be giving them our support. Otherwise, I fear market day, like early-closing day, will be borne away by the ever-rolling stream. (Hymn reference there – but which hymn? No postcards, no prizes, no money)
That’s me rambled out…
Tony