Tag Archives: friends

The Adventure Begins

Thursday, April 24/14. 

At last, after a fairly hectic few days, we are at the start of our journey.  To get to Como from Wellington we have three flights.  Wellington/Auckland – 1 hour; Auckland/Hong Kong – 12 hours and Hong Kong/Malpensa, Madrid – 13 hours.  This is followed by a 40-minute car ride to Como.

The adventure is just beginning and a charming young Asian steward brought a glass of champagne before the plane took off.  Then the purser appeared with a beautifully produced menu for lunch.  I chose salmon with apple and wasabi mayonnaise salad, followed by stir-fried prawns with XO sauce, jasmine rice and vegetables.  Delicious.  But before lunch, the same young Asian man brought me a perfectly mixed Bloody Mary complete with a small bottle of Tobasco sauce as he didn’t know how much to put into the drink.

We had fully flat beds and after such an early start they looked very appealing.

It is a few years since I was last in Hong Kong and the changes to that airport are amazing,

And the Cathay Pacific lounge has to be seen to be believed.  It is without a doubt the most beautiful airline lounge I have been in.  Carrara marble on every surface and while that sounds awful it was absolutely beautiful.  They call this lounge The Bridge as it bridges two areas each complete with bars and cafes with every type of food imaginable.  But who really wants to eat after a 13-hour flight?  We had some broth and a cup of coffee.

We had four hours wait in this fabulous lounge.  And even at 12 midnight, the shops were open offering high-class goods.

Friday, April 25

Then it was time for the next leg of our journey.  This time I slept most of the way – all through dinner and the next round of snacks.  It is great to be able to stretch out in full-length beds and sleep the hours away.  Breakfast was served and suddenly we were beginning our descent into Malpensa.

Our friends were at the airport to meet us and drive us to their home for a few days rest and recuperation after our long flight.

In Italy, April 25 is a public holiday – Liberation Day.  It marks the fall of Mussolini’s Italian Social Republic and the end of the Nazi occupation in Italy in 1945, towards the end of the second World War.   This is also a public holiday in New Zealand – ANZAC Day.  It commemorates the landing of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) at Gallipoli, Turkey, during World War I in 1915. This event, also observed in Australia, remembers all New Zealanders who served their country in wars and conflicts. Links to posts written for Anzac Day 2011, 2012 and 2013 are at the end of this missive.

As everybody was on holiday the whole family came for lunch on a glorious spring day.  Small children, adult children and their spouses all gave us a great welcome to Italy. It was such a lovely spring day that we ate outside in the gazebo. But once the family went home, we retired to our beds for a welcome siesta.

Saturday, April 26

Another lovely warm spring day and so after breakfast we went into Como to parade around, look at the lake and do some people watching.  But first, our host had to have coffee.  What a beautiful old city this is.  The church, Duomo, is 12th Century and we decided against going into it as there were so many people around.  Instead we chose to just wander around for several hours.

Then back to our hosts’ house for another siesta.  We were becoming very used to this custom by now.

Sunday, April 27

All the family came to lunch again.  As it rained heavily we were all in the house and the children became a trifle grumpy as they couldn’t get out to play.

Monday, April 28

Today it rained as if it would never stop.  Typical spring weather in Italy we are told.  Good friends of our hosts came for lunch which went on well into the afternoon following which we had another siesta.

Tuesday, April 29

A wet start to the day but it improved to hot sunshine later.  We went into Como for the necessary espresso and to acquire Italian sim cards for our phones.  But we didn’t have our passports with us and so we had to go back home to retrieve them.

We did some window shopping, bought another suitcase and had lunch in a restaurant atop a four-story building affording fantastic views of both the Duomo and the lake.

Buying sim cards and a USB for the internet proved to be more difficult than we expected.  Vodafone would not take a credit card or cash for the USB and after trying several of our cards our host came to the party with a cash card to pay for the connection.  With the difficulty of language, their not taking our credit cards or cash this transaction took over an hour.  So we were all pleased to find somewhere for coffee and then go home again.

“The traveler sees what he sees.
The tourist sees what he has come to see.”
― G.K. Chesterton

Links to ANZAC Day Posts

 

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Tie a Yellow Ribbon

The siren call of home has sounded and each day it is getting   louder.  It is now 10 weeks since I kissed my family and special friend goodbye at Wellington airport and set off on this adventure.  And what an adventure it has been.

Wellington August 2013 040

First I visited my sister in London and we did things that sisters would do if they saw each other on a regular basis.  We don’t but we make up for it when we do meet.  We visited family, and aged aunt with Alzheimer’s (although we discovered she is only a few years older than us), cousins, nieces and a special blogging buddy in Oxford.

Sisters

Originally our plans were to both go to Florence, hut these plans were dashed when my sister had to have a series of tests after suffering what was thought could be a heart attack.  She wasn’t allowed to fly so I went on my own.

I felt rather shaky on the day I left London.  I was going off alone to a country where I knew nobody and didn’t speak the language.  But what a great time I had there.  I found my way around very easily and quickly felt at home in this wonderful city.  Paris is described a the City of Light but for me now Florence will always have that soubriquet.

I discovered all the wonderful buildings and artwork that I had read about so many times in the past but I also discovered the back streets where lesser known wonders were housed.  I discovered the joys/benefits of living in an apartment in a suburb as opposed to living in a five-star hotel in the centre of town.  And there is a certain freedom in being somewhere where one is not known and one knows no-one.

I have waxed on and on about the wonders of this now my favourite city in earlier posts and so wont bore you here, but if you have missed them or if you are a new reader of this blog please click here to read of my adventures.

Il Duomo

Click the photo to read some of the posts on my visit to Florence

After almost three weeks the call of family and home was becoming stronger and so I left Florence and went back to London to decide on the next leg of this journey/adventure/experience.  The decision was made that I should return home and resume normal life albeit slightly differently because now my partner and I have decided we want to spend the rest of our lives together.  So another chapter in this long and colourful life is beginning.

Wellington city and harbour.

Wellington City and harbour. Via Wikipedia

Changes to the airline ticket have been made and I am now going home on Saturday 2 November – that’s only “four more sleeps” and I am getting excited about seeing family and friends again. Oh I shall miss my sister,the interaction, laughs,stories and jokes but it is time for normal service to be resumed.

China Southern Airlines

Because of the mix up on the way to London the airline has upgraded me to First Class travel home.  I another reason to be looking forward to Saturday.  I am looking forward to it.

So I will be off-line for a few days, but watch this space.

“Is it possible for home to be a person and
not a place?”
Stephanie Perkins,  American author

A Voyage of Discovery

After reading and commenting on Noelene’s blog today I trawled back to the very first blog I wrote on March 1, 2011.  This was an introduction of me to you (or anybody out there who wanted to read what I thought) and this post attracted no comments, no visitors and so I guess no interest.

I then went on to read some more of the early posts.  But writing a blog (and re-reading earlier posts) has been a learning process for me.   Clearly, I was growing more confident in what I was putting out to the blog and because of that, I was attracting more readers, comments and almost unbelievably, followers.

Many blogs that I follow focus on one or two aspects of life, themes or particular interests.  Mine just simply meanders around, aimlessly following the many and mixed pathways of this elderly woman’s mind. Note here – according to my grandsons the two words one doesn’t use around Granma are ‘Old” and “Age”.  When my No 2 grandson was about 9 I had a fall and an ambulance officer asked how old I was.  Robbie quickly jumped in and told the guy that we didn’t use that word around Granma but he knew that Granma was 39 plus GST (Goods and Services Tax).  The ambulance man was delighted and asked if he could use that phrase.

I have dwelt at some length on growing up in London during and after the war.  There are many posts on this subject and no doubt there will be many more.  These are written particularly for the four young men collectively known as my grandsons.  As my son has said on several occasions, and particularly when the boys were young, words to the effect that if he and his sister couldn’t understand what life was like then how could we expect the boys to understand.  So the series of posts on growing up was introduced.

I wrote about my DYS (Dashing Young Scotsman) and our travels, our children and our long and happy life together.  Then about his sudden death and the catalyst for writing my book ‘Suddenly Single’.  I told about the support and love that I received from family and friends at this time.

I have written about my love and friendship with my two sisters.   Although we live impossibly far away from each other we are still best friends.  During the riots in London in August 2011 and after speaking to my sister there, I penned this Ode to a Sister.

I have shared some of what I learned and passed on to clients during my time as a Life Coach.  I truly believe that I learned more from my clients than they ever did from me.

I introduced to you my programme called Memories – writing your memories for those who come after you.  This is where I coined the phrase – ‘To live in lives we leave behind is not to die”  So I wrote my memories and shared what I learned in so doing with others.  And this was easy and enjoyable.  I am currently working on putting the process into a book to share with others.

I told some tales of when I was the Wedding Coordinator at a historic church in Wellington.  Many more tales linger in my brain from this very happy time.  I said this was the best job I ever had and I meant it.

And I have let loose a few rants at what I consider to be the ridiculous behaviour of some people; the unthinking attitude of some in power; the naivety of some and the penalties they pay for being so, and on and on covering anything at all that takes my mind on that day and at that time.

I almost forgot my foray into writing fiction.  I received a postcard from my sister in the US and this led me to write the first in a series about hats.  Then Sallyann at Photographic Memories wrote a post about Cars and I read a challenge in that post.  So a continuation of the hats saga was embarked upon and we had lots of fun looking for the bonnets.  This saga took another turn when Thomas Stazyk introduced the ‘the swarthy gent in the Panama hat’ in a comment on one of the posts.  This saga is continuing.

And I cannot forget my darling Lotte; the Tibetan Spaniel who shared my life, my walks and my adventures until her untimely death a couple of months ago. She left a huge hole in my heart.  And now my new companion, the Beautiful Miss Bella is working her way into my heart.  She has a totally different attitude to life than Miss Lotte but she leaves nobody in any doubt that she loves me.  She is fiercely protective of me even though she weighs all of 5 kgs.

So in the two years in which I have been blogging, I have learned plenty.  I have met many friends in the blogosphere, have learned that I really like writing and would like to do more of it.  I have enjoyed my foray into fiction writing and have started writing poetry.

And just to forewarn you, I plan to keep blogging.  And a warning!

“When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me……………..
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.”
From “Warning” by Jenny Joseph, English Poet, 1932-

Book cover

A Sad Card

A funny thing happened on the way to Mary Potter Hospice today.  I went to the mailbox and there , among the usual bills and junk mail, was a pretty card with an illustration of irises on the front  The back cover advised that it was part of the Hope Greeting Collection, made from recycled paper and gave the website www.habitat.org.

Iris in flower

Inside was this sad plea, and because it was so sad, I will reproduce it exactly word for word as it was written :

“Judith my dear –
I heard of this poor soul who hasn’t
heard from her sisters for almost three
weeks.
It breaks your heart.
Love you
God Bless
Christine”

Now, what would you do in the face of such a plea?  Send an email; make a phone call or send a response through snail mail?

I hate to think of this poor soul on the other side of the world (well as Christine lives in California I have to assume that she lives on the other side of the world too) waiting, hoping for a response.

So I immediately sent the following back to Christine via email :

 

“Oh Christine
Thank you for your card.
Your generous heart knows no bounds.
How lucky is that woman to have met you.
Can she now count you as a friend?
Please tell her that your sisters are both alive and
well, albeit in far flung places, and offer us to her as
surrogate sisters who will keep in touch with her regularly.
Love Judith”

Mother and her daughters c1945

Of course, we have been in touch since she posted this card several days ago.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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It’s Just Another Day

When we lose somebody we love, certain days take on special meanings for us.  Birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas etc all become so much more than just days.  These are the days when we don’t want to be with other people and just want to wallow in memories and maybe self-pity.  But after many years of this, one suddenly realises that yes these are just days.

Today is my Dashing Young Scotsman’s birthday.  Had he lived he would be 83 years old.  I ask myself how would I feel living with an 83-year-old and answer great.  Every year on this day since his sudden death in 1998, I have spent time only with the family.  In the beginning, the small boys helped bring me out of the “slough of despair” and I was so very grateful to them and their parents.

But yesterday I decided that enough was enough.  November 1 is just another day and as I remember my DYS every day of the year, I don’t need to make this day any different or any more special.

But this is a special day as this is the first day of the rest of my life. and so…A few months ago I wrote a poem which I think sums up where I am now and how I choose to live the rest of my life –

My lot is cast
In different places
Not beside the river or the ocean
But in the city with its life and vitality.
Not in the distant years of my youth
Nor the busy years of family life
But the peaceful years of time for me
To enjoy friends and family.
Time to investigate new things
New activities and new friends
Time to be me.

..And here’s my rainbow to help those of you battling with the after effects of Sandy.  My thoughts are with you all in this dire time.
Rainbow

My rainbow

The Swarthy Gentleman in the Panama Hat

 

We left Maisie, Juliet and Imogen wondering about the swarthy gentleman who had called upon Maisie without prior notice.  Our three adventurous ladies were concerned about him and his intentions and so they called upon Juliet’s brother to make some enquiries among those of his acquaintance who might have knowledge of the gentleman.  This he agreed to do and promised to report back to them at the earliest opportunity.

Sir Charles Walton (Juliet Drummond’s brother) was as good as his word.  The next day he called on Maisie – having first made an appointment to do so – to tell her of his enquiries.  Among his close friends was Sir Hector Ryder the head of the Metropolitan Police and so this is where he started the enquiries.  And with some success.

It appeared that the swarthy gentleman was recently arrived in London from India   There he had made a considerable fortune from planting and harvesting tea.  Apparently, he was the son of a British Major about whom very little was known.  The swarthiness noted by all, was put down to the fact that the Major had married a local woman of high standing and had set up home with her.  At the time there had been quite a commotion caused by this but as the years passed, the situation became more acceptable.  The children of such marriages, however, were not really accepted as quite on a par with those born to a British couple.  However, because of his parentage, the swarthy gentleman was British.

He was known to his contemporaries as Billy although he had been christened in the Church of England in Lucknow (where his father had been stationed), Thomas Anthony Winston Fotheringham.

On arriving in London he had met some acquaintances of his father’s and had then been sponsored into all the right clubs.  He was becoming quite well-known among that certain set in London.  He was also known to frequent a particular hotel where he met a variety of young women for afternoon tea, but really nothing much was known of the man.

It was established that he wasn’t married although there had been some sort of scandal shortly before he left India.  In fact it was rumoured that the decision to leave hadn’t been entirely his.

So where did this get Maisie.  She thanked Sir Charles for his help and after finishing his coffee he left.

It was almost lunch time and so Maisie decided to think about all that she had learned while she ate and then she would call Juliet and Imogen to see what they thought of this information.

Just as Maisie sat down for lunch a loud knocking on the front door  was heard followed by the heavy tread of Higgins the chauffeur.  He appeared at the morning room door with an envelope containing a heavily embossed card with the name T A W Fotheringham, Esq on it,  with various club affiliations noted and also a hand written note requesting her approval for him to call upon her the following morning around 11.30 am to discuss a matter of interest to both of them.  Well, what could that be?

Obviously as soon as the card was received a telephone call was made to both Juliet and Imogen.  Having been summoned once again, the two friends duly arrived and settled down to hear about “Billy” Fotheringham.  They were all perplexed as to how he found Maisie and where she lived and also what connection could there possibly be.

Many ideas and thoughts were voiced as the three ladies sat in the drawing room drinking the tea that had been brought by Jackson.  Was there a relative of Maisie’s who went out to India either with the army or else with the East India Company and maybe stayed on after his contract was finished.  Could Major Fotheringham (Billy’s father) be a distant or long lost relative?  Or could his business with Maisie be totally different, maybe even bordering on the evil?

The ladies shuddered to think this.

After much discussion it was agreed that he should be invited to attend on the next day but not at his suggested time of 11.30 am (far too early for an unknown gentleman to call upon a lady) but rather in the afternoon at which time the other two friends would be present.

With the decision made, Jackson was summoned to bring pen and paper and Maisie wrote to Fotheringham proffering the invitation.  Higgins the chauffeur was despatched to the address given to deliver the note.

This having been done, Juliet and Imogen took themselves off each promising to be there well in advance of the 4pm appointment time.

Maisie then settled herself for the rest of the day not knowing whether she should be looking forward to the morrow or dreading it.

Until tomorrow…

 

Keeping Promises

A ring at the doorbell, followed by the tap-tap of Jackson’s feet on the tiled front entry preceded Jackson’s knock on the door of the morning room.  “There is a gentleman here to see you madam” she said.  Well it was very early and Maisie Benton-Smythe, the  Countess of Waverley, was certainly not expecting anyone.  Taking a look at the proffered card, Maisie quickly ascertained that this was not a gentleman known to her.  What to do?  She was alone in the house except for Jackson, the parlour maid and Higgins the chauffeur.  Should she receive this stranger or send him away?  Or Jackson could deal with him and suggest he return at a more convenient and agreed time. which  would give Maisie time to find out who he was and in fact, whether she wished to receive him.

Indeed, he could not be a gentleman – no gentleman would call unannounced on a lady early in the morning.  So it was decided.  Jackson would send the man on his way suggesting that he write a note for madam stating his business and requesting a time to call upon her.

With Jackson despatched to pass the message to the gentleman, Maisie took herself off to the window to watch him depart  She was surprised to see a late-model sports car parked at the kerb and soon after  she saw a swarthy gentleman in a Panama hat climb into the driver’s seat.  Who could this be she wondered.

An excited call to Juliet Drummond (her very best friend) with a demand that Juliet hurry around to the house without delay.  Over cups of coffee the two friends discussed this “gentleman”.  Had either of them seen him before?  No they didn’t think they had.  How had he found where Maisie lived and what could his business be with her?  A quick call to Imogen (Lady Carruthers) meant that she would join the other two in trying to determine who this gent could be.

Imogen, it was, who thought she had seen this gentleman at the restaurant when they were having lunch on the day that they retrieved the bonnets.  But who was he and how had he discovered where Maisie lived.  The three women were very worried that he might be a stalker, with evil intentions.  The telephone was lifted again to call Juliet’s brother, Charles Spencer,  who happened to be a Member of Parliament and as such had acquaintances (if not friends) in all sorts of occupations.  One such was the Head of the Metropolitan Police, Sir Walter Burke.  Charles promised to contact his friend and to report back as soon as possible.

Where is this story going?  I don’t know so please watch this space.  I am having fun with these ladies and their adventures.  I hope you are too.

And “the swarthy gentleman in the Panama hat seen lurking in the department store and later driving past Masie’s in a late model sports car” is an invention of Thomas Stazyk.  Thanks Thomas.

Related posts –Found at Last, The Bonnets, Part 2, Part 3, Lost, In Search of the Bonnets and  Hats, Hats on Again, New Hats, The Beach

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Yet More on the Bonnets

A few days ago I wrote about Promises to Keep and was reminded that several of my posts ended in To Be Continued..and in fact they never had been continued.  So I am making a concerted effort to make good and keep those promises made.

Today I shall start with the continuing saga of The Bonnets.  In case you don’t know this saga started in June when Sallyann of Photographic Memories wrote a post about some bonnets left in a taxi cab and suggested that I might come up with the answer to why they were there.

Bonnets in taxi

Photo thanks to Sallyann at Photographic Memories.
Click on the picture to go to Sallyann’s post.

If you are interested in reading this saga, the links will appear at the foot of this post.

Caroline Fortescue (more usually known as Daisie) borrowed a couple of her grandmother’s hats to go to a 1950s party with her friend Charlotte.  Of course, her grandmother Maisie was delighted to lend the girls a couple of hats and she and her two best friends Juliet and Imogen entered into the spirit and produced some hats of their own for the girls to choose which they preferred.

The party was a success (?) but when the girls awoke the next day the bonnets were missing and they had to confess to Maisie et al.  Another string of adventures followed while the bonnets were located but as is usually the case with Maisie and friends involved, all didn’t go smoothly.  In recovering the bonnets the two ladies stopped off for a light lunch before which they indulged in some shopping during which they each bought a new hat.  And you’ve guessed it, the new hats to which the two ladies had treated themselves were lost during the course of the day.

So now the story continues…Thomas   Stazyk commented after the last post “Yes . . . and what about that swarthy gentleman in the Panama hat seen lurking in the department store and later driving past Maisie’s in a late model sports car?” So that takes the story off in yet another direction.

After her two friends left, Maisie sat pondering the question of where were the new hats?  She remembered she and Juliet had them at lunch and was sure that they had taken them to the lost property office.  She recalled placing the bag containing the hats at her feet while she filled out the required form to take away the bonnets but had no recollection of what happened after that.  So the very next morning she called the lost property office and having spoken to the same very helpful young woman, found that the hats were indeed just where they had left them the day before.  Maisie thought to herself that any cleaner working for her would be instantly dismissed if she/he didn’t see such a large parcel on the floor when completing the evening cleaning tasks.

Anyway, so the bonnets were found and could be returned to their rightful owners.  Juliet was called as was Imogen.  Neither lady wished to upset their friend again in leaving her out of the adventure.  Then having agreed where to meet,  all three sallied forth yet again to recover their new hats and have a light luncheon before returning home.  And the swarthy gentleman?  Well that really does have to be the subject of yet another post.

Related Posts

Saturday Again

Six word Saturday button

Once again it’s Saturday and time for six word Saturday.
Today my six words are

Man in the kitchen making dinner.

Want to play along? All that’s necessary to participate is to describe your life (or something) in a phrase using just six words – click on the picture above or  click here for more details.

My friend has been talking about using his slow cooker for ages.  We have had discussions about what one cooks in it and yesterday he announced that he was cooking corned beef in his slow cooker.

I am very impressed.  He chopped the vegetables and put them in the pot together with the beef and he has now left it to cook for 8 hours.  Meantime he invited his sister-in-law and her husband to join us for dinner.  My only contribution is to make the white onion sauce for the meat.  Easy peasy as they say.

Pot roast

For over 40 years I was married to a chef aka man who loved to spend time in the kitchen and in later years when he had retired, we had a reversal of roles when entertaining.  He cooked and I poured the drinks.  I wonder if this is going to happen again tonight.

“One of the very nicest things about life is the way we must regularly stop whatever it is we are doing and devote our attention to eating.”
Luciano Pavarotti and William Wright,
Pavarotti, My Own Story

 

The Bonnets – Lost

The taxi duly arrived and the two girls climbed into the back….

By now Daisie was exhausted with the music, the noise, the chatter and the dubious drinks she had consumed both at the party and at the nightclub.  She almost fell into the back of the taxi and immediately went to sleep.  This left Charlotte, who was rather the worse for drink (she had lost count of what and how many) to instruct the taxi driver to their destination.  Unfortunately, in her befuddled way she gave the driver the address of her house instead of Daisie’s.  Daisie slept through the ride only waking when Charlotte shook her as they arrived at their destination.

Charlotte paid the driver and walked rather unsteadily towards her front door with Daisie following sleepily.  The two girls entered the house and went to Charlotte’s room where they immediately fell asleep.

They were awakened the next morning by Charlotte’s mother who in turn had been awakened by Daisie’s mother who was worried when the girls hadn’t arrived home.  It had been too late to call when they arrived the night before and neither girl awoke early enough to put Juliet’s mind at ease.

After hurried breakfast Daisie departed to face her mother.  And it was then that she realised that the two bonnets they had borrowed from Maisie and her friends were missing.  Presumably still in the back of the taxi.  She was in a blue funk.**

Having unsuccessfully tried to locate the taxi and the missing bonnets, Daisie felt very low in spirits.  How was she going to tell her beloved grandmother Maisie that the two bonnets were missing?  She was not sure how she would take the news.  But, being a child of the 21st Century she decided there was nothing to do but to go and face her Grandmother and see whether together they could perhaps come up with a way of tracing the missing bonnets.

Photo thanks to Sallyann at Photographic Memories.
Click on the photo to go to Sallyann’s post.

** Note.  Thanks to Christine at Trudging Through Fog for pointing out that I had not used the word ‘blue’ in my post.  This sentence was added after that.

This is the fourth in the series about the bonnets.  If you haven’t read the earlier posts check the links – The Bonnets The Bonnets Part 2 The Bonnets Part 3.  It is also a continuation of the Hats Series.  Links to The Hats posts appear on each of the above three posts.

Trifecta tricycleAnd this last post fitted in well with Trifecta’s challenge this week and so this is my entry.  The challenge is to write an entry between 33 and 333 words using the third definition of the word BLUE (adjective) :
1  : of the color blue
2  a : bluish
b : discolored by or as if by bruising
c : bluish gray
3  a : low in spirits : melancholy
    b : marked by low spirits : depressing <a blue funk> <things looked blue>

If you want to try your hand at the challenge, you can find the complete guidelines on the Trifecta site by clicking the tricycle picture.