I woke this morning, after a slightly disturbed night (the Sage was restless and kept rolling over, taking the bedclothes with him), to the sound of a bird in the chimney. I lay dozily listening for a while. Not a pigeon, nor a little bird. A dove at a pinch, otherwise blackbird or starling size. At last, I got up, drew the curtains on one side of the room, one curtain on the other and opened the window, and then realised that the sound didn’t come from the chimney at all, but from the attic.

I don’t ever go in that attic. I think my wedding dress is in there, but it’s housed many generations of mice by now I expect. There is, I know a copy of The Swimming Pool Library by Alan Hollingsworth which, at the time of printing, was a book I didn’t care for my then very young children to read so I was obliged to hide it, and it’s never emerged.

But I moved the box of Christmas decorations from the third step and climbed the stairs. At the top, a starling was flapping desperately at the glass and didn’t fly away at my approach. I grabbed, caught one wing and was thoroughly pecked after three despairing squawks, before the bird resigned itself to imminent destruction. Carefully carrying it, I held it at the window and it successfully flew away.

Once I was dressed, I spent the morning typing (and reading a few blogs, hem, hem)and then made a few phone calls. The Sage came home. “I had to shelter in Al’s shop for a while” he said. “A real April shower.” I had been planning to bike into town, maybe the weather was too unsettled? He changed tune at once. “Oh, no, it’s cleared up, look, there’s more blue sky than grey.” I mentioned that the thing about April showers is that they can come almost out of a blue sky…no, I’d be fine, he told me.

Yes, I cyled in, and cold it was. A nasty North wind blowing at my left side. On the way home, it rained, too, making my back right teeth ache.

I bought barracuda from the fishmonger on Thursday, as well as some lovely raw prawns from which I made a divine risotto with fennel. I’ve never cooked or eaten barracuda, but decided it was probably quite robust, so made a base of onion, celery, carrot, red wine and tomato, browned the fish and then cooked it in the sauce. It was good and, indeed, robust.

Several things ticked off my list, although one of the phone calls turned out to be an answerphone message. Can’t bother her on a Sunday, so I must remember next week. Yes, I know that Sunday is the first day of the week, but one doesn’t treat it as such so I’m counting Monday as the start of the week.

That reminds me. I don’t know whether I’m in school on Monday or Friday. Excuse me, I need to send an email.

I had a long discussion this morning regarding a PCC matter, which has clarified things nicely for both me and the person I was talking to, but it’s left both of us with quite a bit of work to do within the next week. I haven’t even looked at the minutes of the meeting I chaired at the end of last term at school, and I need to okay them before the clerk can send them out. Then I have three people to contact before a committee meeting on Wednesday and I mustn’t forget to ring someone else because I didn’t send her a reminder for something on Thursday, so I must give her some warning. Tomorrow I’ve got to spend an hour clearing away the Easter flowers in church and doing new ones, because no one has put their name down on the flower rota this week. Someone else has invited me to her special birthday lunch next Friday, so I must find out if it’s a significant birthday – she’s specified no presents, but I don’t even know the exact date of the birthday and it may be her 90th. I can’t remember what the other things are that are becoming quite urgent, but they’ll come to me, probably in the early hours of tomorrow. I must, from now on, try to put in at least an hour’s clarinet practice every day or I won’t be ready for the wedding in June.

I can’t help feeling that a proper job would make life easier. I wouldn’t have taken on the other things and I’d have fewer distractions during office hours – being at home, there are phone calls and callers and housework to do and I’m very easily persuaded to faff about doing anything at all but work.

It’s been a pleasant day today, though. I looked after the babies this afternoon, and they were charming. They decided on pasta with cheese sauce and carrots for tea, and their mother arrived home in time to wipe off the debris. The Sage discovered a hen sitting on eggs last week – she had hidden behind a piece of wood leaning against the shed, out of the run; they go where they like, those bantams – and they started to hatch today. There were two out this afternoon, with a third beak just breaking through, and there were four or five tonight, with another one half out. Still four more eggs to go. Once they’re all out, we’ll pop them safely into a coop so they can’t be caught by any predators.

Tonight, Ro and I went to a concert of, mostly, early Britten music, including a string quartet and two Poèmes that he wrote when he was 13 and which had not previously been performed. The second Poème was a bit overambitious, not that I know anything, but the first, which was actually Number 4, I enjoyed very much – a bit Richard Strauss-y and Debussy-ish, I thought. I liked the quartet too. The first piece was his Simple Symphony, which he wrote in his early 20s, but he had actually written much of it between the ages of 9 and 12 and orchestrated it later. Then there was a series of songs in 8 movements, each based on a different poem with a different instrument solo accompanying the tenor, with the unifying subject of Sleep (I’ve left the programme in the car or I’d tell you what it was called) – and that was written much later. It was also played and sung at Britten’s funeral – he died in 1976 at the age of 62.

So, I’ve sorted out some of the PCC business, but it took a while as it involved a long and sociable chat on MSN. Then I phoned about my credit card. Can you spare a couple of minutes while I tell you the whole story?

About a month ago, I left (I thought) my credit card at home and then needed to pay for £50-worth of petrol. I put my debit card in the machine, put in the PIN and it was refused. The checkout girl said that the ‘enter’ button was a bit dodgy, so do it carefully. It was refused again, she tried pressing it a third time and it was disallowed. I wrote a cheque instead.

Later, *cough* I discovered that I’d left the debit card at home and so had actually put the credit card in the machine, so it was my mistake as I’d used the wrong PIN.

I phoned the helpline and was kept on hold for more than 20 minutes. Finally I got through and the woman said that the card was fine. I said I’d tried to use it, just to check, and it was refused. She then discovered that there was a ‘watch’ on the card, which she removed.

A week or so later, on trying to use the card, it was refused again. I rang again. Another 25 minutes listening to a ghastly non-music for 12 seconds followed by an 8 second assurance that my call was important, please hold. Over and again. Every time the voice came on, I had to listen to be sure it wasn’t an actual person, but the ‘music’ was too nasty to listen to and I had to hold the receiver away from my ear. It’s not a freephone number, by the way, I was paying for this.

Eventually, I got through to a helpful man with an Indian accent who said that the easiest way to sort it out was to send me a new PIN.

A few days later, I received a reminder of the same PIN. I sighed. This was a couple of weeks ago. In that time, I’ve used the card several times to buy things online – DVDs from Amazon, train tickets and the TV licence – with no problem. However, it was refused at the wine merchant yesterday.

I phoned again. Is there a policy that makes it always between 20 and 25 minutes on hold before you speak to anyone? I explained quite forcefully, though politely of course, the whole story. The woman said that they can’t send out a new PIN, all they can do is send a reminder. I said the man had told me I’d get a new PIN, he evidently didn’t know that. She said that I have to take it to one of their ATMs and it will say the PIN is blocked, and that if I enter the correct number it will unblock it. That’s the only way to unblock it, they can’t do that for me.

I said that evidently some of their call-centre staff don’t know this. Please could she pass the word on that this should be explained? I also said that, as a security measure, it is not effective as the card itself can still be used online. She said she’d pass that on too. She sounded helpful, genuinely apologetic and entirely capable. I hope she is.

I want to keep this particular card, because N@t10nw1de has one of the few accounts that doesn’t charge extra for using their cards abroad, and I’m going to Madrid in a couple of weeks. Unfortunately, the nearest branch is 10 miles away from here. Nevertheless, it would have been quicker to go there in the first place.

I feel just a tiny bit overburdened at the moment. We both had appointments at the dentist this morning – I was fine, but it still cost £50…the Sage was told that a crown is on its last legs and should be replaced, which is rather more money. However, money, poof, it’s time that matters, isn’t it?

I looked after the children this afternoon, as Dilly had an appointment. They were lovely as always, though I did suddenly find myself in need of a nap. Squiffany fell asleep too and Pugsley (I had taken the precaution of switching on CBeebies – yes, Bad Granny) was quite happy and seemed to find us quite amusing.

My friend R, whose wedding in June I have agreed to play at, came at 5 to talk about music. I don’t really do weddings, too stressful – she doesn’t want traditional wedding music, so I’ve said I’ll have a look and a think. The hymns are fine, and I’ll play a couple on the organ and a couple on the clarinet. For the rest, I’m thinking one rousing, one gentle and one with a bit of swing and pace, so that they can dance down the aisle on the way out. I have until June.

I am involved with PCC stuff. The AGM is only 2 days after I arrive home from holiday – I’m leaving in 2 weeks. There’s stuff to sort out. I’ve just arranged a Friday morning meeting to sort it out.

I’ve school stuff to do. It’s well into the second week of the holidays. I need to get on with it.

Nadfas business. No, I haven’t booked the hotel in Liverpool yet. I’ve a committee meeting next week, and I’ve three people to contact before that and Stuff to do as well.

I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t renewed the TV licence. I couldn’t find the reminder letter, but at least I had a licence from a couple of years back so had the number so could do it online. Yes, darlings, I’ve achieved something today. I remembered it too, albeit slightly late.

A bottle of bubbles was cracked in honour of Al’s birthday – we also played Musical Bumps, Musical Statues and Ring-a-ring-of roses. “Party bags?” enquired Squiffany. Grannies rustle something up at no notice at all.

Ro suggested a takeaway. Oh, yes. And another bottle.

Not in any pre-cock-crowing sense of course, but Al denied all knowledge of me, or about this blog at any rate. It’s true that he’s never read it, but he does know it exists and has done for a couple of years.

I’ve been discovered, you see, and the discoverer, who is co-proprietor of one of my favourite businesses in town, popped in to the shop to mention it to Al, which was courteous of him. Like most people who don’t read blogs, Al can’t understand why I write one, or read other people’s either.

So, hi Steve *wave*. I’ll blush when I see you next…I see how you found me, I’ve tracked back…