THE Current Mrs Feeney and I did something on Tuesday morning that we hadn’t done for too long. We jumped in the car after breakfast and drove to Gower.
It was the first time we had done something spontaneous for ages. It made me wonder why retired life had become so bogged down in To Do tasks. I promised myself that, in future, I would take the time to ask myself if that thing I “have to do today” really does have to be done today (or ever).
We walked along the paths above the cliffs at Southgate. TCMrsF thought she could live there, or in near-by Pennard. We talked about the idea of moving out of the city. Beguiling on a day like this, with the yellow gorse bushes swaying in the breeze, and the sea shining out to the horizon; not so appealing (to me, at least) on a stormy winter’s night.
Put money in your purse
We stopped at a Gower pub for lunch after our walk. There was an exhibition of work by local artists in the function room, and we bought a framed watercolour for £30, and a smaller unframed piece for £5.
The desk did not take cards, so we had to scrabble in purse and wallet to scrape together the necessary cash. Almost embarrassing, but reassuring for a Retired Bloke to know there are still some places where you need real money in your pocket.
Include her out
While we were out, the Prime Minister called a snap election. Which just goes to show you shouldn’t leave the house without being prepared for the unexpected.
Anyway, when I collected The Daughter from work that evening, I asked for her thoughts: “Why has she done it?” she said. “”It’s about Brexit,” I replied. “Fine. I’ll vote for whoever can stop it.”
That may prove tricky.
This isn’t looking good
I spent Friday morning trying to follow up possible lines of enquiry about my mysterious great grandfather, after the responses from Pembrokeshire and Suffolk record offices.
There was a suggestion that he may have given his birthplace as Ipswich when he joined the Army, simply to hide his true Irish origins (this supposes that 1: my great grandfather was the Army private who shared his name, age and town of residence in 1870; 2: he was indeed from Ireland).
Anyway, having discovered that, in the mid 19th Century, going on for half of British Army recruits were poor Irish Catholics, there is no obvious reason why my great grandfather would want to hide the fact of his birth in this way.
Searching records for people baptised William Feeney in the 1840s, I came across one who, in 1861, was residing at the St Mary Agricultural Colony and Reformatory in Leicestershire. My knowledge of such places is scant (ok, non existent), but given that there seems to be a very good chance that my great grandfather was up before the court bench both during and after his Army career, I could be forgiven for thinking that I see a trend developing.
Council of war
Sticking with the men at war theme, on Friday afternoon I went to see Their Finest in the cinema. Set in word war two, it’s a thoroughly enjoyable film about film-making, and the value of propaganda, and especially about the role of women in wartime, and the subsequent tensions when they were expected to meekly resume their domesticated lives when peace came.
Apart from all of that, much of it was filmed in Swansea, and I had a lot of fun spotting locations; including the council offices, which made a very convincing Ministry of War.
And on we go
Today, Sunday, is our 29th wedding anniversary. TCMrsF says she’s getting used to me now.