Thank You

It may be post Christmas but there are still plenty of parties to come.

If you are a child your parents will have thoughtfully provided you with something to give to the chum who has invited you - and you may get a goody bag to take home at the end of the party.

If you are a grown-up you supply your own thank you for having me gift – a hostess (or host) gift. The usual gift is a bottle of wine but current thought is that this could appear rude – there's always someone prepared to be offended at something these days.

The thought being that you are considering your host too poor to supply wine. What nonsense!

Therefore an alternative must be thought of and evidently a bottle of good quality olive oil is currently a favourite: the host will not feel obliged to open it and use it straight away, as they may with wine, and it will last a good deal longer.

As a litre of organic extra virgin olive oil can cost almost £20 you may not save money by going for oil instead of wine. But it is sensible to give something of use, but not to torture your little grey cells to the extent you did when thinking of Christmas presents.

During wartime rationing my grandmother lunched weekly with her son and his family. She would always take a packet of tea or sugar, both being rationed at the time and both, therefore, being welcomed.

I've noticed some papers and magazines devoting pages to suggestions for hostess presents. And it does seem they have resurrected their pre-Christmas present lists with posh hand-wash – a mere £33, or a Gingerbread House Kit for just £2.95

It was so much simpler to take wine – and if you make use of special offers the host will not be able to put a price, a monetary price, on your gift.

Visitors from South

News of the re-formatted Horsell Christmas Market spread beyond the borough.

One of the organising team for the relocated market met a group of six people from Guildford who just love Christmas markets. They had discovered the Guildford market had been cancelled, due to Storm Darragh, so they checked online for similar Christmas markets at Godalming and Farnham, both near to Guildford, but both of these were also victims of the storm.

They then checked again, and found that Horsell was still open, and so that became their destination. They were astonished/delighted/amazed at all the work which had been done to relocate the stalls – and loved the mulled wine and vegetable samosa.

Under the Cover

How naïve I am to wonder why buildings have to be clad. Hampton Court Palace looks good and has lasted well with its red brick. Christ Church Woking likewise, though somewhat newer.

And to think Woking used to be famous for its brickworks at Knaphill – they are commemorated on the town gates by Christ Church.

I'll say no more, for I am sure that others will.

However I did look up "rain screens" as it was recorded that these items had come loose. My search reveals that they are a form of cladding. ...by any other name?

Brookwood Mingle

The Mingle has become a regular feature on the Brookwood Cemetery calendar.

It is hosted by Brookwood Park – the cemetery –, the Brookwood Cemetery Society, the Trench Experience and the Brookwood American Cemetery.

It centred on the beautiful chapel on the north side and a good crowd turned up, including our MP.

There was a Christmas tree and paper shapes on which could be written messages which were then tied to the tree with coloured ribbons.

There was a display of photographs taken during the Halloween walk earlier this year when many of the memorials were lit and the cemetery takes on a magical look. There was also a stained glass window from a mausoleum.

Broken, it has been carefully repaired by a Cemetery Society member and was displayed back-lit and looking glorious.

Other broken windows will, where possible, be likewise repaired – if the glass shards can be found – and returned to the mausoleum in due course.

This is the sort of thing the Cemetery Society does and this is why the money they collect from their regular walks around the cemetery is so important.

There was a delicious spread of foody things including an exhortation to make your own smorgasbord with various breads and a large range of toppers: cold meats, olives, cheeses and so on. There were prawn cocktails, mince pies, and chocolates.

The Trench Experience supplied two cauldrons of mulled wine, one labelled as being with alcohol, the other labelled non-alcoholic. I did not try the latter but can confirm the former was correctly labelled.

We then went outside the chapel for some carol singing. The master of music said he thought that as While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks was obviously a rural setting so the music should be likewise.

He therefore chose On Ilkla Moar Baht 'at and, if you were careful, the words do fit. And one thought of those poor shepherds out on those fields without hats.

Coincidentally, the Yorkshire folk song is sung to a Methodist hymn tune: Cranbrook, composed by Thomas Clark in 1805, so not such a strange choice of tune as one might think at first.

Indeed, a little research shows that those shepherds have been sung to that tune in the past.

The Letters to Heaven white EIIR postbox is now permanently sited by the chapel.

It was first seen at the Brookwood 170th celebration earlier this year. The message on it reads: “This is where you may post letters, cards, or messages to loved ones who are no longer with us. This is a way to express your feelings which may bring comfort.

"All letters are treated with the utmost respect and will remain unopened as they are sent on their final journey. This post box is serviced by the team at Brookwood Cemetery, not Royal Mail, therefore a stamp is not required.”

It is, indeed, comforting, for there are many occasions when we say to ourselves “I wish I'd told them that...” And this way, you can do just that.

Sara

The message was “Remembering an Angel. Sara Sharif. Please join us on Sunday 15 December at Hammond Road at 18.30.”

So we did, as did a great number of people – we spotted our MP in the throng.

For a while Hammond Road was gridlocked. We had taken nightlights in glass jars and flowers, as requested.

It was quiet despite the large number of people, there was not even shouting at the jammed cars. It was so quiet that when there was a call for a two-minute silence it was scarcely noticeable; we were already quiet.

We could not hear what was said but I did hear someone saying we were there to remember Sara, not think about the perpetrators. It was a strange night with the misty moon constantly hiding behind clouds and then showing once more.

We lost the white rose we had with us for it got squashed in the crowd.

There was something rather lovely about those white petals scattered on the pavement outside Sara's home.

Perhaps that should be "outside the house where she lived" – and died. Such a place was not a real home for the poor child.

Nearly Next Year

Our family has had a very strange year, and that has been, mainly, down to me.

This time last year I was in Wolvega, in the Netherlands, where we had spent Christmas and seen in the New Year with my youngest and her family.

We had stood in the middle of the main road at midnight and watched the fireworks all around us.

Apparently there was no main firework display, just groups letting them off. Indeed, there was even a small display in the middle of the main road.

We all came home at various times: my eldest and her family left before me, my middle daughter, and our friend, by which time we had been joined by my step-grandson and his girlfriend.

She didn't stay his girlfriend for long: she became his fiancee on a small bridge over a beautiful waterway with all of us cheering them on.

They had been in Poland – she is Polish – and they joined us on the drive back to England. Five of us just fitting into the car but having to leave some non-urgent luggage behind: a guitar being the most mourned.

I was back there for Easter. For six weeks and I still managed to file this page every week despite the difficulty of having to use a laptop – which I am not used to – and worrying about it asking questions in Dutch.

Home and within days I was taking up a doctor's appointment which had missed me due my absence abroad.

The rest, as the saying goes, is history. A history you may read on the back copies of this page.

Emergency appointment, A&E, kept in for surgery during which "something was found" which turned out to be signs of bladder cancer. Then followed chemotherapy at the Royal Surrey Hospital (RS).

That has now been completed and I duly rang the bell to show that I had finished the course. Now I am starting a course of immunotherapy but no longer at the RS: there is a mobile unit which calls in at Morrison's car park so that is where I shall be going once a fortnight from now on.

This will be a considerable relief to my daughters who, bless them, have not once let me attend hospital on my own.

It is good to have someone with you at medical appointments: however long the list of questions you draw up for the medics you forget to ask them all, or forget what the replies were. My daughters have been absolutely brilliant.

I wanted to thank the staff at the RS and thought hard about how I could do it. This was my solution:

Thank you all for looking after me so very well and staying smiley. I wanted to give you something to share to show my appreciation.

I thought of sweets and biscuits but they don't last.

So please help yourself to a daffodil bulb and plant it in a pot, window box, or garden. I hope it will flourish for years to come – you have given me the opportunity to do just that.

With my very best wishes to you all.

And I send my very best wishes to all of my readers as well, and hope you have a happy and, importantly, healthy, 2025.

Ann