Monthly Archives: October 2007

There were not three in a bed

Having been quite annoyed a couple of times about inconsistencies and stupidities described in the paperwork of today’s governors’ meeting, which was nothing to do with the school and related to diktats from the government or the local authority, I cheered myself up markedly on the way back to the carpark with my muttering of “The left tit doesn’t know what the right tit is doing.”

This morning I picked all the squashes, because a frost is forecast for tonight. There were over a hundred last year and sixty-four this, which is much what I’d expected from the cold and alternately too wet and too dry spring and summer. A few of them were very small, so I chose three of the smallest, all different varieties, to roast for dinner tonight, with coriander seeds and whole garlic cloves. They accompanied cauliflower cheese – I ate a lot last week and rather craved something simple.

It was slightly odd, being the third party in a holiday, but my sister Wink and her chap Bod made me very welcome and I hardly ever felt like a gooseberry. There was a slightly alarming over-acquaintance the first night in fact, as Bod had booked a cabin, which had two beds and a sofa-bed. I sort of thought we’d not get properly undressed and discreetly just lie down for a rest, but no, they both blithely undressed. I sighed and did too, being heartily glad I’d actually brought a nightdress as I usually don’t wear one. I pretended very hard not to be embarrassed.

I tended to wake early in the mornings, as I was going to bed much earlier than usual, so I was always ready when Bod tapped on my door on the way down to breakfast. After a few days he remarked on the fact that each night he went to bed with one woman and the next morning he came down with another…the staff seemed to take it with no more than a raised eyebrow…

It was a family-run hotel on the outskirts of Azay-le-Rideau, newly done up, very comfortable, and the food was very good. The waiter seemed quite lugubrious for the first day or two, but he unbent considerably as the week went on and – look, does this surprise you one bit? – started to tease me rotten.

We went out each day and arrived back in the early evening, to bathe and change for dinner, either at the hotel or in town. I don’t know what came over me, but I took the opportunity for a protracted sleep too. Honestly, I never slept less than half an hour, and up to an hour and a half. Then I’d sleep another six or seven hours at night. Occasionally, I dropped of in the back of the car too. I was quite a quiet companion, as for the rest of the time I was gazing dreamily out of the window or reading one of the nine books I took.

Z gets back into the Swing

I went to hear a lecture this morning, in the usual monthly way – and it was absolutely brilliant, by the way. I’m not sure what our frightfully nice members thought of her clumpy shoes, baggy jeans and rugby shirt: I knew what to expect as I’d met her before, and in any case they were certainly won over by the learned yet brilliantly funny lecture.

Anyway, before it started, the technician whom I had not yet met came to introduce herself. “You are,” she started cautiously, “the one who stands on the stage jabbering away* and thanking the lecturer?”. I admitted it and looked a little downcast. “Oh no, it’s good” she explained. “It makes it all seem not so highbrow and I can make some sense of it.”

Oh heck, the child doesn’t even know me and she feels able to say this. I hope this is a good thing. I can feel myself starting to be a caricature of myself and it’s a little frightening.

The Sage left at larkfart to catch the London train, so I was in no great hurry to come home. Depressingly, I couldn’t be bothered to go round the Norwich shops and shopped at a different supermarket instead. I say depressingly, because shopping for basic foodstuffs is surely nothing of a treat at all. I usually go to local shops and, for a trolleyful, the local Co-op, but this time I went to Waitrose!!(!). One always buys frightfully nice stuff in Waitrose, I find, because it would be just too embarrassing to come out bearing packets of poptarts or cheezy wotsits. Not that I buy such things anyway, of course…

On the way home, I called in to pick up some fruit from Al. He has bought some attractive baskets to put the produce in, instead of the plastic ones he used to have. “They’ve been there for ages, haven’t you noticed?” he said airily. I reminded him that I’d been away for ten days. He’d sort of forgotten. He spent last Sunday painting the woodwork at the front of the shop – it can only be done on a Sunday of course, so he has to do it himself. This means he loses his only complete day off of the week, but there’s no help for that. The masonry needs to be painted as well, and this will be quite a big job. Not that it’s a big shop, but it’s detached and so there are three sides to do.

Woo-hoo, my darling has just arrived home. I must go and prepare to be kissed.

*I can’t remember exactly what she said but, startlingly enough, it was something very like this

WAVE

Hello, darlings, I’m home. And I’ve had a delightful time, thank you. It started unpromisingly, when the railway line in Essex was closed as I approached because an acetylene tank being carried on a fire service lorry which caught fire was in danger of blowing up and both the road and the nearby railway were shut down. I ended up going on a taxi ride through the delightful villages of the county with three young men and an older chap (who was the taxi driver) and I was only an hour and a half late for my connection. I caught the next train and that was the end of my possible disaster of the holiday (I may have mentioned before that things go wrong all around me but they always finish satisfactorily).

There appear to be no internet cafes in the Tourraine and so I was not able to keep in contact (unlike my sister, who was found texting away busily at regular intervals) and I have well over a thousand posts to read, according to Bloglines. This may take me some time. I have spent the afternoon catching up with emails and phone calls, and with booking a ticket for the Sage to go to London tomorrow – what? Already? At least he’s not staying overnight this time. He is going to have to extract his ticket from a machine on Diss station and I’ve lent him my credit card for the occasion. Have I ever told you that the Sage does not have a credit card, nor even a debit card? He says that the cheque of a gentleman is enough for anyone … though he takes the precaution of having me along on occasions when young and inexperienced staff might not appreciate the fact.

There will, indeed, be Pictures, when I get around to loading them. Not for a day or two, perhaps. Things are a little busy round here and I seem to have agreed to be nominated as vice-chairman of governors again, even though I have stoutly declared that I may step down next summer anyway. Or I may not. I don’t know, genuinely.

I hope all’s well with you all, and I’ll visit you soon to see what I’ve been missing.

xx z

A slice of life

ILTV tagged me weeks ago, but I’ve been too busy to finish. Sorry, darling. I couldn’t leave it another ten days until I come home again, so here we are…

“players – you must list one fact, word or titbit which is somehow relevant
to your life for each letter of your name”

She kindly gave me the option of my long or short name, but one letter would give a Z-fact too much
significance, so I’ve gone for the full razorblade. I thought of using my own name, but O and E are quite stinky
letters too, so I needed a few more to flesh it out a bit.

Right. Razorblade

Rivers. I love being by or on the water. On the bank or in a dinghy, watching the wildlife and enjoying the air. I grew up messing about in boats but was never drawn to sailing or to motors. I don’t particularly need to get anywhere and I don’t want to make a noise and scare away the creatures.

Artichokes. Globe artichokes, that is, because I love messy vegetables that have to be eaten with the fingers, such as asparagus, corn on the cob, samphire … I’m probably better not watched as it may be quite yukky to look at. I pick the artichoke and tap it on a post to shake out earwigs. Then rinse thoroughly, gather up the rest of the earwigs and let them go and boil until the scales can be pulled out. A happy ten minutes ensues as I pull out each scale, dip it in butter and scrape the flesh off with my teeth. Then scrape away the choke to leave the gorgeous treat of the heart.

Zorro. When I grew up there was much derring do in children’s television programmes. William Tell, Robin Hood and Zorro. He left his mark at the scene of his deeds, by slashing three marks with his sword to make a Z. Sadly, I identified with this no end. I still like having a name which starts with a Z.

Ox-eye daisy, because I like wild flowers best.

R – the Sage’s name starts with the letter R. I’ve known him for more than two-thirds of my life. I’ve been married to him for more than three decades. He’s lovely.

Books, because they have been, at some times, vital to me. I lived through books at one time, and thought that any time spent not reading was wasted. I’d keep, as a child, a book at the foot of the stairs so that I would have something to do on the way up. One in the upstairs loo and one downstairs, one by my bed, a couple more on the go about the house. I read at least one book every day. Except the downstairs lavatory one, because it was a bit cold and dark there. Plato’s Republic lasted me a good couple of years there, as I only read a page or two at a time.

Laziness. The ability to relax without guilt is a vital part of me. I’ll work hard if there’s work to be done, but I think there is absolutely nothing wrong with doing nothing at all. Some years ago, in the Yuppy era, people used to boast about how they were so busy that they never had time for themselves. I need time for myself, and to myself as well.

Antiques. I’ve hardly ever bought any new furniture. Beds are new, although we used to have a splendid old half-tester bed which I liked very much as it was high and you had to climb up to bed. It was too tall for our bedroom here and we sold it. Our dining table is one we had made from some rather wonderful oak planks, with legs from an oak tree which fell down in 1988 (all the trees around it had gone in the 1987 gale and it must have felt exposed) Otherwise, all old. And mostly a bit scruffy. Like me and the Sage.

Dogs. I’m more of a dog than a person at heart.

Englishness. Oh, I’m so English. I couldn’t live anywhere else.

Z is silenced, in two ways

Well, the day culminated all right, and I can’t tell you about it. I asked the Sage if I could put it on my blog and he said he’d rather not. That took the wind right out of my sails and I wished I hadn’t asked. It isn’t fair even to hint. Damn. It’s good.

But the whole day has been good. The Sage had Success in London and I had a good day in the City. If you are in London right now and have time to spare, hasten to Goldsmiths’ Hall for the Fair. It is absolutely wonderful and well worth a visit. I spent two or three hours there and would have appreciated longer. Some beautiful items, individually designed and not overpriced by any means. If it were not for the fact that we have spent money today, I would have been very tempted, and I will certainly be back another year, preferably with a Sage and his chequebook…

We also had a guided tour round the Mansion House. I can’t remember if I’ve told you that I’ve been to a couple of banquets there before. I didn’t see a thing, however, as I was unborn at the time – in Coronation year, my father’s cousin was Lady Mayoress and he and my mother were invited to a couple of doos. Most considerately, the silver-gilt candelabrum given by my great-great-great grandfather was put in front of them. Sadly, although I looked, I didn’t see it today.

My voice has gone. Vanished. I am talked out. I had to ask, huskily, Shirley to give the vote of thanks to the organiser of the day.

Then I arrived home, to find a gift waiting for me from Julie in Athens. Thank you so, so much, dearest Julie. It will be listened to first thing tomorrow. I cannot tell you how happy I am.

Toys

I said that boys’ toys were more fun than girls’ toys and that I’d have liked to have had a train set. If I had, I wonder how much I’d have played with it? Impossible to know now. But I never had Meccano, cars, a train, a toy gun – I did have a toy bow and arrows, which was probably about the time when my parents took up archery. I was given one doll for a birthday present and I was quite polite to her, but she wasn’t cuddly like a teddy bear and I didn’t really play with her.

I think that, by ‘fun’, that I mean that they led to more activity. Other girls did dolls’ tea parties, played house, had dolly prams and played skipping games with rhymes and routines. Boys did adventurous things and it was all right to make a lot of noise. A group of siblings or a mixed-sex group would run around, play tag, whatever, but if you had just boys or just girls, they resorted to stereotypes. Once in a while a boy-child came round, and he was rather intrigued by the notion of a tea party and I fetched out all my soft toys and we played with them, but if there had been two boys it would have been embarrassing for them, and I certainly never did it on my own.

Things haven’t changed all that much, funnily enough. I was in a well-known toyshop a couple of weeks ago, one that prides itself on its good quality toys with educational qualities. There was a dollshouse. For small children, I think that small family figures in a house with furniture is quite a good toy for a boy or a girl – but this had a lot of pink and heart-shaped cutouts in the decorations. Anything designed to appeal mostly to a girl is relentlessly pink. Why, for goodness sake?

If you generalise, boys play rougher than girls, on the whole. But not all of them do. Mine didn’t, particularly. And we weren’t very noisy. Both El and Al had a play house, exactly the same. They also had a clockwork train set and Scalextric. As they became older they had different things as their tastes changed. Both my sons are quite happy playing quite violent video games, which I can’t even watch. When they were little and had the shoot ’em up type of thing, I liked playing them too, though I preferred games that relied more on skill. Later, there was a degree of realism I couldn’t deal with. My daughter quite soon became bored with games consoles and certainly would have hated the aggressive ones.

I’m not sure that I’m reaching much of a conclusion, except maybe to say that I think that many toys are even more sharply gender-specific now than they were when I was a child. Girls’ things are, as I say, very very pink, all hearts, flowers and glitter. Boys’ things often have quite a violent undertone. There doesn’t seem to be much place for the ungirly girl or the gentler boy, but it would take quite small differences to change that. Just do away with the vivid pink fluffiness on the one hand and the emphasis on fighting on the other.

Z is lonely

Blimey – the list of things to do before I go away is getting longer. I’ve had to cry off from WI this evening – I know, my main social life (since I don’t meet Dave for lunch every week) vanished before my eyes.

The Sage is away. He hasn’t spent a night away from home for years. Literally. He’s in London. I’ll be in London too tomorrow, but for a different purpose, so we won’t meet.

I had a meeting this morning and came away with two frozen trout, as did all the other committee members. Our hostess was glad to see the back of them, as it means there is now some room in the freezer, as her husband brings them home every week.

Ro and I are going to have a stir-fry tonight, with lots of chillies. More than the Sage could tolerate. Then I’ll start work.

There may be another post tonight, as I am not very diligent when it comes to work and might be glad of distraction.

I can listen to the radio all I want in bed tonight, as I’ll be on my own. *Sigh*

Z frets about fruit in the Small Hours

It’s all got a bit busy this evening and I’m distracted. It wasn’t helpful that I woke up at 2.30 this morning, worried about pears. Doyenne du Comice pears, which I had assured Al I’d got in stock (English ones, from Kent). but that I then worriedly realised I’d confused with Beurre Hardy pears, which a Local had brought in from her tree. I finally got up at 2.50 and rang the wholesalers to order them. Even more dismally, I remembered the phone number. I hardly ever remember phone numbers. I then twitchily (not least because I was starkers and it wasn’t that warm) read a few blog posts, left a few comments and then returned to bed, where the Sage, with astonishing politeness, put his arms round me to warm me up. I still didn’t sleep for another couple of hours though and, sadly, this was not because of canoodling but because I couldn’t relax.

The Sage is off to London tomorrow morning and I have got a meeting in the wilds of Norfolk, so I have to look up the route because we only have tiny winding country roads round here and jovial bumpkins spend their spare time turning the roadsigns round so that we drive the wrong way. I’m picking up my lovely and darling friend Bette at ten past nine and she lives twenty-five minutes away. This is an early start for me – yeah, yeah, I’m spoilt. I’ve never denied it.

Ro went for an interview for a new job, was offered and accepted it, and tomorrow has to tell his boss. He’s not looking forward to that. The good thing is that the new job is in Norwich and it looks as if the bus is the best way to get there, which will please Ro. He does not like frantic drivers on their daily commute. He’ll have to leave home earlier, but at least he can veg on the bus.

I can’t concentrate. I need to do some work. Can I rely on another sleepless night? Probably. Bother.