I looked after the shop this afternoon because Al and co. went to the Norfolk Show. They had a marvellous time and came back with cheeses and seeds and toasted stuff, which all looks yummy. I will eat it tomorrow!
I was allowed to Cash Up at the end of the day, which is a great privilege. I am, as a result of all this excitement, very tired. I got to the shop at 12.15, dumped my assortment of extra clothes for if it got chilly, went to the bakers to buy a ham and salad roll and then hung around for a few minutes until Tim left. Then Eileen passed on various messages, then she left and, at 1 o’clock, I was left to my own devices.
Several busy hours later, feeling a little fatigued, I looked at my watch. It was 2 o’clock!!(!)
How could this be? It should have been at least half past 3!
It was not busy for the next while – the occasional customer but many others were visiting the Show, which is the highlight of the Norfolk calendar. I read the paper so thoroughly that, after doing the crossword, I even scanned the sports pages, including the exploits of the Hen Man.
I was disappointed. I always hope he will lose in the first round, for it saves time. Every year, he snatches defeat from the jaws of victory, relinquishes it a few times, grabs it back again and then, just when you get used to him winning absurdly hard-fought matches, he pussily wimps out again. So just lose, honey – spare us all.
Anyway, things picked up and I was still serving customers after 5.30, when I should have been bringing stuff in. I did take photos of the blackbird, who visits for grapes, and cherries in season. I’ll put one up tomorrow … did I mention that I’m a tiredy Z?
A couple of friends called. M is a cousin of the Sage’s, a bit distantly so, and his father is Ro’s godfather (dogdaddy, as Ro put it as a very small child). A group of friends hires a cottage in Walberswick (t’other side of the river from Southwold, all quite posh. On the coast.) every couple of years and, though he needn’t, he kindly visits the Old Folk. This includes us and his granny, whom he is escorting to a Grand Ball in Sheffield (assuming the rain eases) next week. Granny – Gaga, as she is known, although she isn’t – is 93 and well up for a ball.
Anyway, I didn’t make strawberry shortcake, but I did make scones and leave them with strawberry jam. M and D ate most, but not all of them (for they are supremely polite) and then came to call at the shop. They were charming, and after they left, I packed up, counted the Cash, came home, picked lots of (ordered) gooseberries, staunched the blood, dug potatoes, picked beans, prepared dinner and ate it. “Did you water the greenhouses?” asked the Sage. “No.” “Because I opened the doors.” “Pfft. Let them stay open. Another glass of wine, anyone?”
Oh, the Sage prepared the vegetables. And poured the wine. He Pulled his Weight.