Spring cleaning

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          This is probably my favourite time of year in Weymouth.  Not only are the crocuses out in their hundreds, but the one or two degrees of higher temperature we’ve gained by moving south have enticed hints of spring to arrive early.

          For me, the best thing about Weymouth at this time of year is the sense of expectation.  The new summer season starts over Easter weekend and everywhere you look you can see signs of preparation for another new beginning.

          There are road works in the main shopping street where the water board have been digging holes while they can before the new season starts and the harbour bridge was closed overnight for two days last week for maintenance.

          There are ladders and scaffolding everywhere you look, workmen weilding paintbrushes are to be found around every corner, and lights can be seen through the cracks of the shutters on some of the shops which hide during the hibernation of the colder months.

          Before we moved to Weymouth, one of the many visits we made was on the weekend before Easter. I could feel an air of expectation in the place then, not least when we shared the breakfast room of our little B&B with workmen in their already paint-daubed overalls.

          This year there’s a new player in town with more than a mind to make a difference. There’s a group of like minded people who have got together, talked a little, and now plan to act a lot. They’ve called themselves “WeyPROGRESS”  and they’ve already been out and about armed with high-viz jackets and yellow marigolds cleaning and tidying up the town.

          “WeyPROGRESS” have another clean-up planned for the 18th March, the same day as the Weymouth half Marathon. I’m more than sure they’d welcome the extra hands if you’d like to join them.

           More from before: Semi-retirement by the seaside in “Weymouth“. 

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Stub

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          I’ve come to the end of my candle . This is not a metaphor holding the answer to life, the universe and everything, I have quite literally, come to the end of my candle.

          Hubby has a tendancy to worry, I have no doubt what so ever that I give him good cause, but for my part I do try ever so hard not to be the reason behind the latest frown lines starting to develop across his brow.

          My memory is  not what it used to be … A strange statement in itself, I dont remember how good or bad my memory was. My immediate memory is totally shot, I’ve been known to have two or more cups of coffee on the go at once where I will make a cuppa, get distracted, and still being thirsty, make another. Yes, entertaining I agree, but I can completely see how this could turn out to be quite dangerous as far as candles are concerned so I’ve not burnt a candle in years.

          In our new house though, we have a wood burner in the room, sitting on a small tiled hearth (soon to be replacedrby a slightly larger slate one). On this hearth I now have a sturdy lantern for the safe lighting of candles and I have watched for many an hour as my candle has flickered its way down to just a little stub, almost ready to be replaced by a second candle waiting patiently for its turn.

Rising

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          I snuck up behind this unsuspecting couple sitting on the sand watching together as the sun came up.  The few pictures I took just before were probably better of the sunrise  but I liked the one with the people in best.