He was not a believer or an active member of the society,
but his wife had returned to the Quaker Meetings for her spiritual needs in her
later years. David had attended some of the social events, and one or two
funeral services and his own personal beliefs found the culture very open and
accepting, and even the Meeting for Worship was pleasingly personal and dogma
free.
But today was only an informal social gathering, not even at
the meeting house but a picnic at the nearby Golden Acres park (British weather
permitting). He walked with his wife, towards the assembling group at the end
of the car park, moving with the steady care of an old man troubled by
arthritis and aging bones. But on most fine days he still walked a mile or two
as exercise, a habit he had maintained since having had a heart bypass some 20
years before. The regular stroll complemented a weekly heart patient keep fit
class run by the local hospital and his health was pretty fair for an
octogenarian.
Pleasantries were exchanged with those already waiting, and
watches were checked as people discussed who else was and was not expected, and
who that was currently parking. David’s voice still bore subtle but distinct
traces of his Cornish origins, some 60 years after he had left the county, but
his accent had little Yorkshire in it, even 30 years after moving on from
London. Being a little hard of hearing he tended to speak quite loudly, but in
fact his wife was the one who was profoundly deaf.
The group decided its complement was complete enough to
proceed, and moved gently down the nearby path, carrying a variety of hampers
and cool bags. Settling themselves around the picnic tables at the beauty spot
the food and drink began to emerge.
David took out the roast beef sandwiches, home made from the remains of
the weekend’s joint, and inspected the two rounds of crusty bloomer, passing
the one without horseradish to his wife.
David had thought of bringing traditional Cornish pasties in
place of the sandwiches, but diced steak not mince, with potato, swede and
onion, but never any carrot, but had decided instead to bring a sharing dish
from his county of origin.
Unpacking strawberry jam and scones he placed them on the
table setting a large pot of clotted cream next to them. Several people enjoyed
the cool cream and jam mixture on the halves of scones, but David insisted that
the jam be placed first on the bread-cake, Cornish style. As he said, “They put
the cream underneath in Devon, because they’re ashamed of it”.
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