Dilly seems to be busier now she’s on holiday than when she’s at work. She had appointments in Norwich and Beccles yesterday, so I was going to look after the children until 3pm. I had an appointment at ‘about’ 10.30 at the church, with someone coming to look at a picture in need of restoration. In addition, our new television was to be delivered at an unspecified time. Since I’d ordered it online, I’d not had a chance to discuss this, but I could look up the time bracket on the day. I hoped it would be the afternoon rather than the morning, which would take a layer of complication from my 10.30 meeting. I looked it up. 4.45 – 8.45 pm. This eliminated one complication but introduced another.

Anyway, that could be considered later. I left for the church with the children – they know it well as the parent and toddler club meets in the church rooms and they were quite happy. While we were waiting, they played and I dealt with the new Easter candle, which was considerably too big for its holder and I needed to take of a quarter of an inch or so all around the bottom three inches. This took ages, and when I went back to check on the children there was a dark patch in the front of Pugsley’s trousers. “You need the potty, Pugsley” I said, since it wasn’t a large stain. “No, I don’t need a wee,” said Pugsley innocently.

Fortunately, just then the Sage arrived so I asked him to stay while I went home and fetched clean clothes. When I got back, of course the picture restorer had turned up, with a colleague (which was useful as I was concerned about the logistics of managing this huge picture) and we had a useful discussion. I changed Pugsley’s clothes, he used the potty and we came home to sausages for lunch.

The tv hadn’t arrived by the time we left, so we put a note on the door asking the driver to knock next door so that Dilly could let him in.

When we got to Weeza’s house, Zerlina was in the bath. She was very pleased to see us and showed her new tooth, and how she cleans it with her new toothbrush. I cooked pizza while bedtime was happening, Phil arrived home early, not long after 6.30 and we’d finished dinner by 6.50. So, with a few minutes in hand, we chatted idly. Then I noticed it was nearly ten past seven. Great squawks of dismay and we belted out to the car, leaving Grandpa doing babysitting duty.

They only live about 3 or 4 miles from the city centre, but one-way streets and the like make it slow to get to. We discussed the quickest way in and the best place to park as I drove. Weeza was twitchy, I was calm. When things have gone wrong, no point in complaining, one needs to scheme how to make the best of things. The worst that would happen would be that Weeza, Phil and Ro would go in on time and that I (having taken extra time to park) would have to wait until allowed in. That wasn’t so bad. I wouldn’t want you to think it was life-or-death here.

As we turned off the roundabout to St Giles, we saw a sign saying the Forum (the ludicrously grandiloquently named public library) car park was full. “St Giles multi-storey then,” I decided. Weeza and Phil got out, taking their tickets and leaving mine and I drove in. I parked on the second floor, only slightly scraping the car in the process (it’s a bumper, c’est son métier), and got out. I checked the closing time of the car park as I went (it used to close when the shops did) and that was all right, so I started to stride off to the theatre.

It was maybe not the best decision to wear shoes with 3-inch heels. I considered taking them off and running, but remembered I can’t run. Really, I can’t. It isn’t a matter of pain or exhaustion, just incapability. It’s frustrating. I have always found walking short distances, such as from the house to the greenhouse, boring and run them, but now I can’t. So I walked at my best hobble past City Hall, past the forum, over Theatre Street, and there was Weeza waiting. Bless her, if I was going to miss a few minutes, so was she. We walked into the theatre and pressed the button for the lift at 7.30 exactly.

When we got to the first floor, we found there was another staircase (someone didn’t think out the redesign, it seems). It said our row, 1-20. Our seats were 22 and 23. I mentioned it. Weeza pffd and we went up. “You’ll have to go back down and up the next stairs” said the usherette, not unkindly. “Oh, but my mother has a bad hip and stairs are really difficult” (I looked brave and pained) “please could we got through, we’re only halfway along.” The woman relented and we apologised our way past 16 people. At the moment Weeza reached her seat and I passed the last person, the house lights went down. Weeza and Z had done it again.

Damn good evening.

Not for the squeamish – Dandelion, you might prefer to skip this one. I don’t know whether you are squeamish generally but I know you are about eyes. Or maybe it’s just yours. Anyway…

I switched off the light at midnight and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. At half past two, I woke up and peered around – by the moonlight I could see that the sight in my right eye was blurred and my eye felt funny. It had been feeling funny all evening – that, in the first place, was why I wanted to take my lens out. It was apparent that my lens had gone to the back of my eye and was not lost after all.

Not that that meant I was able to get it out. I tried for a while, squeezing my eyes shut and then opening them, pulling down the eyelid and shutting my eyes gently and rolling my eyeball, but nothing worked. I decided to go back to sleep and see what happened.

A couple of restlessly-napping hours later, I woke up and the lens was in the right place, a bit squidged up. I removed it, came downstairs, put it to clean and went back to bed. All’s fine today but I’ve not put it in yet. If I’d had it in all night I’d have had red and inflamed eyes today, so I was lucky.

My voice is back. Nicely husky, but quite clear. When Al had all his problems, he pointed out that he’d lost, temporarily of course, his sight (beesting), hearing (burst eardrum), taste and smell and his voice. He was being very careful of his fingertips, just in case. Maybe you have to have a problem to appreciate what you normally have.

I’ve just put the lens in. No problem and it’s in the right place. Very odd, it’s never done that before. The only time a lens has ever slipped to the back of my eye was when I forgot I hadn’t taken them out and slept in them all night.

Just thought you’d want to know – Zerlina finally has her first tooth.

And she can crawl.

Tomorrow night, Weeza, Phil, Ro and I are going to wait for Godot at the theatre (splendid cast, ooh can’t wait). The Sage is going to babysit, This is all terribly exciting.

I haven’t mention that, for the last few days, I’ve been a little husky. Np, don’t be daft, I mean my voice. This morning, I spoke to the Sage like Fenella Fielding, which was fine, and then he went out and then I left for the meeting. When I arrived at my friend’s house to pick her up, my voice was hardly there at all. I whispered and croaked my way through the meeting and came home, thinking of what I needed to do next – buy some plants Ro had asked me to get for Weeza, buy Maltesers and jelly babies for the meeting tonight, pick flowers and make birthday posies for WI tonight (I can’t go because of the other meeting, so would give them to someone else to take) and get to the meeting room early to set up.

Then it dawned on me. I had lost my voice. I had the complete excuse to give my apologies for the meeting and have an evening at home. So I sent an email to explain, did the flowers, asked the Sage to deliver them so I didn’t have to talk, set up the room and came home with nothing more to do. That is, there’s another couple of phone calls I was planning to make, but I can’t, being almost voiceless.

I put in my contact lens this morning and it wasn’t comfortable. I took it out and thought the edge looked a bit rough, so I threw it away and took out a new one. I put it in, it still didn’t feel right, I took it out, peered at it, rinsed it, put it in again and left the house. I just decided to take it out. It doesn’t seem to be there. This is a bit of a nuisance. It means that I dropped it this morning and only thought I’d put it in. If I found it, it would be dried out and useless, so that’s a waste of rather a lot of money.

It’s also notable that I drove to Norwich and back without realising that I didn’t have it in.

It’s taking an effort. I’m so gung-ho, in my quiet and reserved sort of way. Having, as I have said, asked several people to be Treasurer and having been, ever so nicely, rebuffed each time, I’m ready to say soddit I’ll do it myself. In fact, one of the committee members has said she’ll step in if there’s a real difficulty, but she’s not too keen to take on the commitment as she is, as they say, under the doctor at present and she’d rather wait for a clean bill of health. Fact is, I’m sort of missing the committee already, even though I’ve got another couple of months to go. The main thing holding me back, apart from a modicum of common sense, is that the bank we use is in Norwich and I don’t go there all that often – there are an appreciable number of checks to pay in sometimes.

And when explaining whom I’d spoken to, I mentioned that one of the people concerned I’d met through my blog, which gave rise to some jocularity. As you all know, bloggers are charming, friendly and more sociable than their solitary keyboard-tapping proclivities would suggest, but we know that, the few remaining non-bloggers of the world don’t and assume we’re all weird. I refer to the blog but I don’t talk about it much and few people know where to find it – amongst Real World friends, that is. So, having checked that I’m not, secretly, P’t1te Angla1se (Sue’s reading her book at present), which I denied (I also denied being G1rl with a 1 Track M1nd for good measure) Sue asked where to find my blog. I said if she really wants to know I’ll tell her, but I feel strangely shy at the prospect. Should I come out? Is it a good idea for people to know me as I really am?

So, if I suddenly start being terribly polite and modest, you’ll know I’ve gone public. Well, told Sue and Jill.

with varied degrees of success. One person, whom I’d phoned several times without success, I finally emailed. I’ve not met her but in last year’s questionnaire she said she might be willing to join the committee. I’ve just had a reply; she’s at present on a cruise ship en route to Alexandria. She is interested in becoming Secretary and will phone me when she arrives home. Now, that’s the sort of conscientious person I appreciate. I like her already.

The other person I spoke to might be willing to come on the committee, but not as Treasurer. That’s four refusals. I have a couple more options but I’m not optimistic about either of them agreeing, and one doesn’t use a computer in any case, which is not terribly convenient. I’ll take it back to the committee tomorrow and see if anyone has any thoughts.

I had a very boring, but productive morning, much of which was spent on the phone and the rest on the computer. I started with an hour of babysitting, but then worked solidly for three hours – yes you all do that every day. I don’t – that is, I might spend a long time typing if I’ve got reports ‘n’ stuff, but actually talking to people is another thing. I’m not all that fond of making phone calls, and they always seem to come in when I’m busy doing something more interesting or important. What really is guaranteed to make the phone ring is settling down for a conversation with the Sage.

In the afternoon I got out into the greenhouse and sowed yet more seeds. Next thing will be to start pricking out tomato seedlings, of which there are 8 varieties. Probably an average of a couple of dozen of seedlings of each, though that may be an underestimate. It’s the part I like best, the nurturing of little plants. By the time they are all done the peppers – sweet and chilli another 100 plants or so – will need to be done and then the aubergines – purple and white. By then squashes will be ready to pot up. It’s a good thing I’ve a fair bit of greenhouse space. The trying time is often the end of April or beginning of May when a sneaky late frost suddenly catches the runner beans I’ve been carefully getting ready to plant out. We rarely get frost later than the first few days of May, but it can still be cold enough to catch newly-planted tender beans and courgettes.

Tonight, I’m catching up on The Wire They’re putting it on every blooming weekday, so if you miss one and don’t watch it the next day, you have to record the next night’s. This will happen tonight as I’ve got two episodes to watch in an hour, which obviously isn’t going to happen.

This is the one. Hancock’s Half Hour started on the radio in the 1950s and then transferred to television (while still running on the radio) and continued there until the 60s. Tony Hancock committed suicide when on a tour of Australia when he was 44 in 1968.

The quoted bit is about halfway through, but it’s worth watching the lot.

Could that be Zedworks?

It’s the churchwarden thing, you see. One of us -The Fellow, that is – is moving to Norwich soon, so he’s standing down. Someone had been approached to take over, but he lives a few miles away, though he comes to church here and his wife works here, and they’d hoped to move to the village, but it’s fallen through, so he doesn’t think he can take it on. So, since it’s getting near the time when we need to take firm, if not quite urgent, steps, I went ahead and approached the person I have long had my eye on as the perfect replacement for me in a year’s time. She would be ideal – much better than I am, except insofar as I have more self-confidence than she does. You might say that I take self-confidence just a little too far, except that you’re too kind to say that.

I explained the exact situation – that she isn’t the first person asked, why he can’t do it, and that I’d been going to ask her in good time for next year but that we need someone now. As I expected, she immediately said that she couldn’t as it isn’t within her capabilities. I talked her through that part of it, acknowledged her social shyness but said you only need one brash and outspoken person (obv, I didn’t use those words) – anyway, she still said ‘no’ but she’s agreed to be my deputy and she will learn the ropes and can make a decision next year. No obligation, I said, and she knows she can trust me.

I do take ‘no’ for an answer, you see. I probably should be more pushy. I still have to find a treasurer and a secretary for another committee, and I don’t think the secretary will be a problem (I’ll do it myself at a pinch anyway, so I’m fairly relaxed about that) but I’ve asked three people to be treasurer and they’ve all made their perfectly valid excuses. I’ve one more to try, but the reason I’ve not done so before is that I don’t think she’s got time. This is a bit of a problem. However, the Luck of the Sage has always rubbed off on me up to now, so I hope it will again.

Back to the churchwarden – “have you asked S?” said my friend. No, I hadn’t – she’s quite old and I didn’t think she’d take it on. But now her name was mentioned, yes, she would be splendid. So after the service, I asked her. Explained it all again, said that we could do the two jobs between the three of us – and after a few minutes due consideration she agreed. Indeed, she seems pleased to be asked. I’m really happy about it as I know we will work really well together. We’re all close friends but we’re not afraid to disagree, if necessary, without quarrelling, and we are all practical and when there’s a job to do we just get on with it.

We were the runners up in the quiz last night. Always the bridesmaid, hey? No matter, we were beaten fair and square by a team that knew far more British geography than we did. We scored top marks in a couple of rounds though. Do you know, I was the only person on our team who could say where “A pint? That’s very nearly an armful!” came from. I’ll excuse the 35-year-old, but no one older has a leg to stand on, with or without its pint.

Update – I just asked Ro if he knew it and he did. “Everyone should know that,” he said. “There’s no excuse.”

It’s a national heritage thing, isn’t it?

And today, it’s Weeza’z birthday. Happy birthday, lovely girl.

It was clever of me, wasn’t it, having my children two days apart? Though Ro’s birthday is in July. I vetoed having a third baby in April, or anywhere near Christmas.

We won’t see her today, as she and the family are visiting Phil’s parents as it’s his mum’s 60th next week and today there is a big joint party for her and her best friend from schooldays. Wink is coming to stay for Easter and we’ll have a three-way celebration on Easter Sunday as her birthday is a couple of days after that. All wild partying around here, you see. Hmm. Tame partying.

How thoughtful of the Weather Demons, to give the first day of the school holidays to warmth and sunshine. I’ve been working in the greenhouse, but have come indoors for a while as I was too hot. All the first batch of seedlings are up and I’ve got more sown. Still a lot to do of the later stuff – beans and squashes and so on, but I’ll do them all in the next week or so. French beans are jolly tricky as they hate too much moist warmth as much as they despise damp cold and in either situation the seeds rot. MInd you, last year rabbits ate all the plants as soon as they were set out in the garden. I’ve sown broad beans indoors as pheasants are fond of them and we have a good many pheasants in the garden – three cocks vying with each other for the attention of at least seven hens. The chickens are very good and sweet and tend not to stray as far as the kitchen garden, and I don’t mind the odd dustbath in the lawn. Nor do I mind molehills. Come to that, any animals except for mink and rats are more than welcome in my garden, although when a cow eats a whole bedful of sweetcorn I become a bit moody for a while.

I would quite like a brief rest on the sofa, which may include closing my eyes for a few minutes. Drinking red wine at lunchtime followed by a very warm spell in the greenhouse has rebounded on me. I need to be awake for this quiz tonight. There will be some clever people there with better memories than I have, so we won’t win.

…when it’s no one’s birthday. Not in our family anyway. Happy Birthday if it’s yours.

I went to a quiz tonight. We won last year and bore away the trophy – a shield – in triumph. Cost the Sage nearly a fiver to get it engraved, mind you. We came second this time, which was the best possible result as far as I was concerned – to win twice running would look a bit too keen and give us a reputation to keep up too, but one hardly wants the wooden spoon. The most embarrassing question to get right was “who had a hit with ‘The One and Only’ in 1991′?”. Indeed, I did know. I apologise.

I looked after the shop for 3 hours again today to give Al a break. If he were employed, he’d have taken a few days off right at the start and got over this, but that’s not possible. I’m babysitting tomorrow morning, but I’ve told him I can go in during the afternoon and again for as long as he likes on Monday. Tim has his children coming to stay so he is taking the whole week off, so Al will have to work longer hours than usual, even with me helping. I don’t mind, except that it’s jolly cold in there – this afternoon I took a chair and a book and sat outside between serving customers as it was a good deal warmer out there.

The silly thing I did was to forget to put my insert in my shoe – I remembered when well on the way to school in the morning on my bike (now the weather’s not so cold I can keep going all the way up the hill, huzzah). I had 3mm-worth in my bag, so I put those in, but usually I use 9mm, and I was wearing heels as well, so it’s not ideal for the balance. It’s not much difference – it’s a bit like when I don’t put in my contact lens and don’t notice for quite some time, but once I’ve realised I can really tell the difference.

Another quiz tomorrow night, will the jollity never cease?