We set off at about ten after a sleep-in and a leisurely breakfast, hoping to get to Barraba early.
We stopped for lunch at Inverell and did a bit of shopping at the Rivers Superstore.
We got home at about four and I unloaded the Terios of all the stuff we had brought from Patricks Rd. I checked the rain water tank only to find that the overflow had fallen off taking the screen with it. There was a bit of stuff in the tank but not enough to warrant cleaning it out. I also checked the ceiling space. All the rat baits had gone but there was no sign of any dead rats.
I moved some stuff from the Motley to the house so that we could feed ourselves. I didn't get all I wanted to get done because my hip gave out.
George and Jan arrived in time for morning tea and we chatted until lunch time. Jan insisted on cooking poached double-yolked eggs which went down very well.
In the afternoon we set about moving their motorhome into the back yard. The best site is a fairly level piece of ground on the northern boundary down by the fence between the back lawn and the back paddock. They were a bit worried about manoeuvring their big motorhome and trailer into the back yard so I moved the Motley onto that site and put them on our usual site which requires only a straight reverse down the southern fence line. They settled in quite happily.
After that, we had a long happy hour and went to dinner at the RSL.
I had been to town to get all the mail which had accumulated since we went away before Xmas. Included in the great armful of envelopes was a box from the Red Hat Society in America.
The story starts many years ago when Jean came across this poem called When I'm Old by Jenny Joseph
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens and learn to spit.
When Jean was in San Francisco, Rachel took her to afternoon tea and one of San Francisco's finest hotels and Jean noticed a group of ladies also having afternoon tea who were all dressed in purple and wearing red hats. When she pointed them out to Rachel, Rachel said "Oh, they're from the Red Hat Society." The connection with the Jenny Joseph poem was established and the coincidence noted.
Rachel had contacted the Red Hat Society and arranged for them to send Jean a Red Hat and a copy of the book about the Society, an organisation of ladies who celebrate the ideas in the poem by meeting regularly dressed appropriately. They are all about not worrying what other people think of you when their opinions are based solely on superficial things such as what you wear. Jean is quite taken with the idea and maybe I'll get her to start a chapter of the Red Hat Society in the Motorhome Club.
I cooked some curry and we chatted a lot.
I cooked more curry and we chatted a lot more and dined on a curry feast.