Telscombe

Telscombe news
Telscombe news

WI: Telscombe Cliffs Women’s Institute meet on the second Wednesday of every month from 2pm to 4pm in the Civic Centre. There are over 50 members who enjoy speakers, demonstrations, Christmas get-together, August garden party plus outings to theatres, local events etc. Contact P Winton email: wintoncp@tiscali.co.uk phone: 01273 585208.

THE DEANS SENIOR TEA CLUB: Meet every Tuesday from 10.30am to 12.30pm in the Civic Centre. Come along for tea, coffee, cakes and a chat. It’s free, but donations are always welcome.

YOGA: With Natalie Heath every Tuesday from 6pm to 7pm in the Civic Centre. This class is back after the summer break on Tuesday September 4. Contact Natalie Heath email: mrsnatalieheath@yahoo.co.uk phone: 07738538094.

LIVING LIGHT PILATES: Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning in the Civic Centre. £6.50 per class or class pass for £44 (eight classes plus one free session). Contact Nicola Murray-Smith email: nicolalivinglight@yahoo.com phone: 07776 457752.

FITNESS PILATES: Every Monday morning and Thursday evening in the Civic Centre. Get fit, tone up, prevent back pain, improve flexibility and posture. Equipment provided, just bring some water. Only £6 per class or £40 for eight weeks. Contact Jennie Palmer email: jen@jenniepalmer.co.uk phone: 07825 702775.

YOGA: Every Monday from 7.15pm to 8.15pm in the Civic Centre. Contact Jane email: janechantyoga@hotmail.co.uk phone: 07703 167895.

DANCE CLASS: Little Stars Pre-School Dance Class for pre-school children aged 2 to 4 years, every Tuesday 9am to 9.30am at the Civic Centre. £3.50 per session. Contact Anneli Smith 07930 490058.

COFFEE MORNING: Bereavement Support Group Coffee Morning on the second Wednesday of each month from 10am to noon at the Civic Centre. Bereavement can be a lonely journey so come and meet other people who are in the same situation as you in a friendly and informal setting. Contact Janet Quintavalle email: info@thebereavementcentre.co.uk phone: 01273 585818.

FOOTNOTES: Cometh the hour, cometh the cat. The yearly trip to the vet for Chaplin’s check up had arrived and I braced myself for the ordeal ahead. Parting with an amount of money that makes my credit card wince with pain, was only the start. The ceremony of entering the travelling basket had to be gone through first. This usually begins amicable enough with what I call the laying on of hands. This consists of my attempting to pick him up and place him bodily in the basket. The struggle over this is nothing compared to the one trying to keep him in it whilst I lower the lid. After some choice cursing on both our parts, this is achieved and we move on to the next phase, carrying and placing him in the car. This is always accompanied by aggrieved howling which continues until we reach the vets and I haul the basket out and carry him inside. There we wait whilst he growls occasionally at any passing animal. Eventually, his name is called, his name mark you, and we totter into the surgery. Nervously I open the basket and place Chaplin on the examination table. After peering into his ears and feeling his stomach, he picks Chaplin up and puts him on a weighing machine. ‘Little overweight’, he remarks. Chaplin sneers at him. ‘Er, he had a good Christmas’, I reply, weakly. The vet gave a non-committal grunt and produced a thermometer. ‘I think I should hold him for this’, I said quickly. I knew that where the vet was going to place the thermometer was quite likely to result in all hell breaking loose. ‘As you wish’, replied the vet with a sniff. Chaplin jerked and swore loudly as the vet inserted it and it took all I had to hold him. Eventually, after dodging questions aimed at my purchasing highly expensive flea treatments, none of which Chaplin has ever needed, he was declared to be perfectly fit and healthy, and we found ourselves out in the office watching my credit card being drained. An appointment was made for the same time next year and I gratefully settled Chaplin’s basket and myself in the car and drove home. Once released, I treated him to his favourite biscuits, washed down with a copious amount of milk, whereupon he jumped onto my desk and went to sleep with his large furry tail draped elegantly over the keyboard of my computer. This time next year we do the whole thing all over again. Have a good week and go safely where ever your journeys take you.