The phone rang. A message for the Sage. There are some people moving into the area and they and the Sage would like to meet, and this chap is acting as the go-between. Last evening, he said that they would be visiting today and he thought that teatime would be a good time to call. However, he was phoning to alter the arrangements.

“They’re not coming up until tomorrow. So will you tell him to call tomorrow and not today?”

I agreed, repeating the message. “You see,” he explained carefully, “I said ‘tomorrow’, but I said that yesterday, so tomorrow is now today. But they aren’t going to be here today, which was tomorrow yesterday. They will be here tomorrow.”

“Right,” I said. “Not Monday, but Tuesday. About teatime.”

I didn’t discuss what time he considers teatime. Anything from four until about half past six, depending on whom you ask.

The Sage turned down all offers of jollifications, but we did sing Happy Birthday to him this afternoon when the family came through with presents.

And I had been hoping to dig up the first potatoes of the season from the garden today. We hardly needed to add the steak and champagne to this home-grown feast.

These, from a couple of days ago, are of the Artist At Work

And here’s a Norfolk song for you.

Who thought inventing this product was a good idea? The same person who thought of the name?

Double Take, indeed.

I need to write a speech for Tuesday. At the AGM, the chairman sums up the year, thanks the committee and other useful people, says the right things in the right way – you know the sort of thing. It doesn’t give much scope for scintillation, but needs to be the right side of soporific, for we will have an interesting lecture afterwards on The Danse Macabre in Art, which no one wants to miss because z made them zzz.

Reading a speech is hard to do without sounding deadly dull, isn’t it. Even if I have notes, I prefer not to look at them. But, in this instance, there are details not to be got wrong and not to be left out, so reading most of it is necessary. But,as you may have noticed, I occasionally play to an audience and I do like to raise the occasional chuckle … but ponderously reading a written funny is just awful so I’ll just have to wing that bit.

Fortunately, I have a limited range of facial expressions. Mostly, they are bigly grinning or worried/frightened. I’ll go for the sympathy-inducing angle, I think.

Anyway, I’m sitting at my desk on a Saturday afternoon for the purpose of writing said speech. No, that sounds tautologous (or should that be tautological?). For the purpose of writing aforementioned speech. I have made my preparations. I have just eaten an omelette containing a shallot and a small but vicious red chilli, drunk a glass of white wine and put Okkervil River’s Black Sheep Boy on (I can’t thank Julie in Athens enough for introducing them to me. They are so good). This has put me in such a good mood that writing boring stuff seems almost a pleasure.

I had a really good time at the engineering day. As ever, I was the least qualified and most ignorant helper there, but from blog to blag is an easy step and, whilst I told the fellow-helpers on my task the situation, I fooled most of the students all of the time, I think. They were an enjoyable bunch, and less hard work than the younger ones I’ve been with on previous years. Aged about 12-14, they were old enough to be relied on to understand what you wanted them to do, while being not too old to accept a bossy woman telling them and teasing just a little when it was evident that they hadn’t actually read the instruction sheet before going ahead with the task.

The structures were made from tightly rolled tubes of A3 acetate sheets bolted together, first into triangles, then into either 3D pentagons or 2D hexagons, then joined to make the structure, which was about 2 metres across. Good Friend took a photo – if he sends it to me, I’ll post it (hint, hint, angel ;-D). At one point, I went to a group who had wound masking tape round one tube which was already fastened with clear sticky tape. “Why did you do just one like that?” I asked. “It’s not necessary.” They looked at each other and hesitated … “that was the one our teacher did.” “Ah.” I added a few sympathetic words about putting up with teachers, which I’d better not repeat as some of my best friends are teachers.

Afterwards, GF and I wandered around Duxford for a while, until rain threatened, when we drove home. It had poured when we left home and some of the fields were flooded. More rain is forecast for the weekend, but I hope it’s dry tomorrow as there’s a wedding at the village church in the afternoon.

This evening I went out to eat. A group of us meet at a fairly local restaurant once a month from April to November and have dinner together. This has been running for about ten years, though the membership has varied somewhat, and was set up by a friend who is the retired headmistress of a girls’ private school in Surrey. She is a born organiser and everything is planned to the nth degree.

She was not there tonight, as she only returned today from a holiday, so she had delegated the organisation to one of our number, who is a near neighbour of hers. On several previous occasions I’ve deputised, and in this event I promptly chuck the rules out of the window and allow modest middle-age/class mayhem. But the new deputy was flattered and impressed by the immensity of the responsibility, and we toed the line. To an extent.

I watched myself, as if from a height, playing to an audience. I made ’em laugh. I made ’em wonder what I was on (sober as a sober person, m’lud). I teased and flattered. I never know quite what comes over me when that happens. Although we are a sociable lot, my end of the table was more reserved and I know that I start just to get the conversation going, to relax people. But some of them don’t know me very well (we’ve recently changed restaurants, which changed the geographic circle of members somewhat) and, I can’t help wondering, do they think I’m really like that? For, as you know, I am really very well behaved and a modest little thing.

It’s pouring tonight. Raining Pugsleypuss and Oz.

You may remember, though if you do it might be worth considering if you have too little else to occupy your mind, that I go every year to Duxford. This evening, he cheerily reminded me “still all right for Friday?’

Yes, this Friday. I wonder why he’d told me the 29th when I last saw him. “Oops” he fluttered when I reminded him. Fortunately, Friday is okay. It does mean I’ll have to get going early tomorrow though, for I am looking after the children all day, so that Dilly can look after Pugsley the cat while her sister is at work. Poor little cat is a bit traumatised and, if left alone, worries at his stitches. He has a plastic collar, but wriggles out of it.

I picked up my new contact lenses today. Now I have a single focus lens in one eye (multi focus in the other) the cost has come down considerably. However, Val from the pet shop tells me she gets hers by mail order, which halves the cost again. I am not untempted … but I’m also taking into account the service I’ve had. I paid for the eye test, but since then, I’ve been given three trial lenses, two small bottles of cleaning solution as I’d run out and several extra consultations, all at no extra charge. They deserve the custom, surely.

I went to another concert tonight – an amazing virtuoso performance by Thomas Zehetmair, who achieved violin effects I’ve never heard before. Ysaÿe, Paganini and Berio.

I must away to my bed. I have ten flower arrangements to dismantle before 9 tomorrow morning.

Thursday morning. Correction. Fourteen before 7.45.

No, really, with good cause this time. We were weeding the greenhouse and this is what we found –





I think he lives under the paving slabs of the greenhouse path – they are laid on bricks and there is quite a gap. I saw him (or her of course) a couple of years ago in the greenhouse and he slid unhurriedly underground then. I went in excitedly, describing a grass snake over two feet long and people were politely pleased for me, but I suspect they thought I might be exaggerating. Now I have proof however, for this skin is fully three feet.

The full-length photo isn’t great, I’m afraid, but you get the idea.

I refer to links, as you will have guessed.

I decided not to link quite early. How should I choose with whom to link? There seemed to be several options. I could put a link to everyone I read, if only once in a while, or just favourites, whom I never miss. If I linked only to friends who comment, regularly or occasionally, or places I leave comments, I could feel that I was excluding people who happen to drop in, or rarely comment at all.

I remember, when I started reading blogs, it was some time before I made comments – I felt that I was intruding into a society I knew nothing about, and I wasn’t sure of the etiquette, nor if a ‘new girl’ might be thought a bit pushy to join in conversations, let alone link to a well-known blogger. Now, of course, I know that the blogging community – or this area of it at any rate – is the most friendly society imaginable, that most of us love to receive comments and many of us don’t mind being disagreed with, that we genuinely care about each other and offer advice and support – even going to considerable trouble to look up information, if that might help a virtual friend.

I think most of you have found this too, and maybe it was as unexpected to you as it was to me. And I have, several times, re-examined my choice not to link. But, now I’ve left it so long, it would seem significant to make a selection and what if I left someone out?

I know, I worry too much. For myself, I feel complimented if I notice that someone has linked to me, but I don’t feel hurt if they haven’t, so I’m not sure why I think it matters.

I do, however, quite often put in a link within a post. I refer to friends by their blog name – sometimes I rather assume that you’ll know whom I’m talking about, especially if they do comment regularly or I know you read them, so don’t bother to link, but I suppose I should be more consistent…it doesn’t take much effort to look up a URL. I think I always acknowledge a referral to a site, and link to someone who has tagged me when I complete a meme.

And if you have put a link to me, thank you very much and I do appreciate it. And I am not leaving you out at all – I appreciate every one of you and, if I did link, you’d be there on the sidebar.

This post was prompted by a gentle tease from the topping Boy.