Busy day ahead. Gotta pack for a trip. Pick up a shirt. Drive to Nottingham to see an orthopaedic surgeon to discuss a hip or two. Nip to the bank. Watch Liverpool wallop whoever they are playing in Yoorp. Not all in that order. Everything is in hand, ish.
London for three nights, back home for a party and then off to Manchester for a popular music concert on Sunday.
The year is approaching its climax. The party season is in full swing. Under way. Heating up. A time of excess.
The excess bit is not necessarily a good thing. It isn’t as if we have to fill ourselves to build stores for the lean months ahead. We do it anyway. Those of us who are lucky enough to be able to.
Presents. Not actually given it any thought as of yet. Don’t need any more socks. Have thought about knitting meself a pair as a bit of a project. I was trawling through nineteenth century census records for Carmarthenshire the other day, as you do, and came across someone whose occupation was stocking maker. Swat gave me the idea.
Where I come from they were mostly farmers or agricultural labourers with the occasional woollen factory worker and minister of religion thrown in. I even saw a butter merchant and a publican or two. I don’t recall seeing a doctor on any of the census entries I read. Interesting. If you had something wrong with you you were probably toast.
My great great great great grandfather Daniel Davies was born in 1766 and died at the age of seventy seven or thereabouts. The healthy outdoor farming life and, being a Baptist, probably didn’t do excess. I am neither a farmer nor a Baptist but we do have doctors nowadays. Medical science an all that jazz.
Doubt I’ll get around to knitting a pair of socks but the idea is sound 🙂