We were unsure of the weather so Dave came in the afternoon instead of the morning – by which time it was pretty hot again. Not so humid so we had more energy. I went over to fetch Weeza (my daughter) and Zerlina because they were carless, Phil having taken the car because of the train strike. So the chaps were already working when we arrived home. Little z was ready for a nap, so Weeza joined in bricklaying.

Tilly (the dog) came past, limping heavily. I went to look at her leg, but couldn’t find anything wrong – she was all right later so I think she’d just twisted it. She lay in the shade for a while. Later, Weeza found fleas on Tilly’s tummy. I’d had a look earlier and she was all right, so she must have picked them up lying in the garden. The Sage sprayed her with stuff. I’ll go back to the pet shop tomorrow and discuss the matter with Val.

Later, Weeza, z and I went for a walk round the village. As we rounded the corner towards the pub, Weeza wondered if it was open? “Not at 4 o’clock,” I doubted. However, it was and its siren call was not to be resisted. z has a liking for blackcurrant juice and fizzy water, and we had John’s home-brew. We didn’t tell anyone – it was our girly secret, Tee Hee.

I had a little discussion with Weeza and Asked Her Advice – well, I knew what her advice would be but I wanted to run some thoughts past her. Anyway, she was very helpful.

I cooked dinner for everyone tonight, so that Dilly wouldn’t have to bother as she was out all day and then tutoring – you’d think the children would be allowed their summer holidays but no, their parents make them keep up the maths throughout August. So she didn’t have time to join us, but at least Al got a meal. Now, they’ve gone off to Norwich, she to see a friend and he to finish last night’s work. The Sage is minding the children right now and I’ll take over in a few minutes. I’m talking to Ro on MSN at the same time as writing. There is a highly annoying mosquito dive-bombing me as well.

Anyway, the wall. Here we go, progress to date –

Nearly Zerlina’s first birthday, you know. Gosh.

I’m late, I’ve been babysitting again. I hadn’t expected Al and Dilly home at any given hour, but by 11.30 I was rather anxious as I’d certainly expected them back before then – as I said before they were working, not having an evening out. I sent an enquiring text in the end, and received a phone call back to say they were on their way home and would be back by midnight. The job was a lot more tricky than they had anticipated. So I’m late writing and am a day out.

It was very hot and humid today and both Dave and I found it a bit of an effort to work for too long, so we made a fairly short morning of it. I tried to find the weather forecast this morning and looked on the BBC website, which is rubbish – at least, the weather forecast part of it is. The day’s overall prediction for the Norwich area was “light rain” but when I looked at the more detailed 3-hourly forecast, it was dry with either sunny or white cloud all day. The line above which changed from local to national to world weather said that there’d be rain but not until the evening and overnight. And then the weather warning said there would be torrential rain overnight. Tonight’s 10.30 TV forecast said it would rain overnight, as it does in the weather warning, but the 3-hourly forecast doesn’t show rain until 7 am. I don’t mind it being inaccurate so much as it contradicting itself on a single website. Bet-hedging incompetents, one suspects. If any part of it is right it should be cooler, whether dry or not, tomorrow – I think if it’s as hot and humid as today we might be put off.
Anyway, we made progress, though not as much as usual. Here are the areas we worked on – I took the low road and Dave took the decorative one.


I went to sleep for a bit this afternoon.

The poor Sage was late home last night. I’d been wondering if he was back and hadn’t come through to say hello, but when Al and Dilly came in at quarter past 10, they said his van wasn’t there. I was just going to phone him when he arrived, three-quarters of an hour late. A train had broken down in the depths of Essex and so the 7.30 from Liverpool had been cancelled and everyone had to crowd on the 8 o’clock. He had actually left a message on the answer phone, but he’d had to borrow a stranger’s phone to do so (so I suppose didn’t like to ask to make a second call when I wasn’t there) as his phone was out of credit. I apologised for not realising – dealing with that is my job and I didn’t realise that he had used the thing much as he had several pounds on it when I checked last. Once, it went unused for so long that the SIM card was deactivated and I had to buy a new one. I’ve put £20, which should last months, even now he does quite like making calls on it.

Today, I went to visit a friend and seemed to stay most of the day. She works far too hard and needs to relax more, so I choose to believe that me enjoying myself so much that I hopelessly outstayed the most hospitable of welcomes was a Good Thing. I told her all about this blog, including its name – which I do still like, but which sounds so stupid when said out loud. If ever I changed it, or moved blogs I’m not sure I’d feel quite the same way about it. I say “all about”, I didn’t say that much about it – when she asked what I write about I said I just waffled and that I write it much as I speak. The subject arose when I told her how I met Dave – “an internet friend” is my usual vague description of each of you dear and lovely people, but I was inveigled into explaining further.

Al and Dilly were out again this evening – work, not play, unfortunately. Their children are remarkably good about bedtime. They get undressed and washed, have milk, choose books to be read to them, make a final visit to the loo and kiss me goodnight with no pleas for a final book, a drink of water, five more minutes play or anything else. It’s remarkably relaxing and pleasant.

The weather forecast was rain, but we’ve had none although it has been very humid all day. Supposed to be dry tomorrow and I hope that will be more accurate, for we expect the reliable Dave at 9.30 for a constructive morning.

Sorry it’s not cake, Dandelion.

It’s going to be an Indian meal, with prawns cooked with courgettes (yes, in India it would be squash), green lentils with garlic and onion, spiced Basmati rice and yoghurt with cucumber and mint. I’ve got some carrots and turnips too, and I haven’t quite decided how I’m going to cook them.

What? Yes, this is all for me.

I have to say, I think this whole early rising thing is overrated. Dawn is one thing, but after a few minutes admiring the sky you have hours to wait until the papers are delivered. And if you wake up any later than that, it’s just dreary hanging about until anything interesting happens. No nice birdsong at this time of the year – the only noise outside comes from rooks – the sun isn’t shining so I have to have the light on and, having already eaten breakfast the hours until lunch will yawn ahead hungrily by mid-morning.

Those who get up early tell me how much they get done. Well, that rather proves what I say. The only point of getting up early is to do the housework and other chores, therefore releasing the more interesting parts of the day for more interesting things. I’ll agree that in spring and early summer it’s delightful outside, if it isn’t raining, but the rest of the year it’s much more pleasant to stay in bed, thus being able to stay up later at night when there are people to talk to, online or in person. There’s nothing to say at this time of day because nothing’s happened, even if there was anyone about.

Of course, in very hot weather it can be useful to do physical work before the heat of the day, but that applies for a couple of weeks if we’re lucky in this country, and how devoted does one have to be to physical work? After all, if you do it for a living you’ll have to work in the heat of the day anyway, and for the rest of us, it’s perfectly acceptable to say “what a lovely day, stuff mowing the lawn, I’m going to lie under a tree with a book and a cold drink.” Mowing the lawn can’t be done, of course, at an unsociable hour so is not possible before 9 am.

I’m going to twiddle my thumbs for the next hour or two until the day is worth starting.

Dandelion made a cake, you see, and decorated it and it looked so delicious that I, babysitting Squiffany and Pugsley for the day, suggested making one too. Or rather, a tray of cakes., because small children can get so involved, not only with the mixing but also of the putting of buncases in trays and spooning of cake mix in cases, and then of individual decoration.

Actually, the decoration was limited to green butter icing because that was the only colouring I had. Pugsley would have liked to make a gingerbread man too, but I discovered the golden syrup had an inch of dark goo in the bottom of the tin and it didn’t meet even my casual attitude (today I fed my grandchildren yoghurt with a use-by date of 7th July; it was fine, I ate one myself a couple of days ago) to food longevity. I’ve promised to buy more tomorrow and, furthermore, to buy decorations- possibly of the sort described by those who know as “sprinkles” for future baking. I am, I admitted, a Bad Granny, but have vowed to reform my ways.

Just watching University Challenge, by the way, and am stunned to discover that Girton admits men nowadays. Where does that leave Girton calves, I wonder? Of no interest to me, sadly, as I’m nearly old enough to be an undergraduate’s grandmother.

I was most upset to find that the Sage has been using one of Ro’s bowls for chicken food. This has been a bone of much contention for years; that he uses various dishes from the cupboard for feeding his beloved bantams. I know how it happens; he uses a dish for leftovers, leaves it for them to polish off and, by the next time he visits a couple of hours later, it looks part of the furniture and he fills it with grain. In this way I’ve lost nearly all my ramekins and other small pots. But Ro, before he went to university, went shopping for essentials and among his purchases were two bowls, one green and one blue, which he’s been very fond of and which he’s used frequently. They disappeared from the cupboard so I assumed he’d taken them with him to Norwich, so I was rather stern when I found that one was filled with chick crumbs for the phantam. “How did that get there?” wondered the Sage – which rather irritated me I confess, as no one but he has fed the chickens. I also noticed another two dishes of mine. I examined Ro’s bowl – it has three cracks and numerous chips round the outside edge. He vowed that a chicken couldn’t do that damage to porcelain. I pointed out that it was pottery (no member of the Sage’s family will confuse earthenware and bone china) so he said that a chicken’s beak still couldn’t damage glaze. “It was pristine the last time I saw it” I said richly, “so please explain the chips and cracks.” He dropped the subject, but I found that the other earthenware dish also had cracks and a chip, although the porcelain one didn’t. “When have I ever used one of your dishes before?” he asked dramatically. Oh bless him, that was a mistake – I would never have mentioned previous occasions again, but he did ask…and there were many of them.

I’m not sure if I said this – one of the bantams cackled triumphantly for a very long time after laying her egg last Friday. I grumbled for a while, but in the end even Dave was irritated. “Is this what men hear when their wives speak?” I enquired. Dave refused to answer, which was quite reply enough. Since I have been asking the Sage politely not to keep using my china for chicken’s food bowls for years and he apparently is unaware of this, my voice is evidently a meaningless cackle. I have used the fact that this is Ro’s bowl to sternly forbid* the Sage ever to it again.

I reminded the Sage of the congestion charge, and that spending Tuesday and Wednesday in London will mean two day’s charges. “Will you sort it for me?” he asked, so I looked up how to pay. “What time are you leaving, by the way?” “About 3 o’clock” – “oh okay, you do realise that you’re paying £8 for about half an hour in central London?” Once he’d considered the matter, he decided to go by train after all. I’ve had to pay £37 for a return ticket (off peak). It would probably have been much cheaper if he’d Thought it Through and discussed it with me earlier. Perversely, I’m mildly disappointed at losing a day of solitude. However, when the time comes (about 10 o’clock tomorrow night), I’ll be awfully glad to see him home. Nevertheless, I’m planning a delicious meal for tomorrow night involving stuff he won’t want to eat.

Ah, an update – I”ll be babysitting, so I’ll have to prepare early and take the food through next door. Actually, now I’m babysitting, so I’ll have to prepare early and take the food through next door. Is it worth it? I don’t know. It may be that I’ll prepare something we both like for Wednesday instead, on the grounds that the Sage being home is an unexpected treat. Champagne, do you think?

*a split infinitive indeed. So?

The family came over for that barbecue and the weather obligingly followed the forecast and was warm and dry. Zerlina was sporting a black eye. “What happened” “She was rattling the stair gate as usual and then there was a thud” said her mother gloomily. Little z seemed quite unbothered by it, anyway. I’d asked Weeza to pick up some lager on the way over – the 15 large cans cost a fiver. “They were on offer, £5 if you spent £35” she explained. “Supermarkets doing their bit to curb the sale of cheap alcohol,” observed Ro drily.

I don’t think I mentioned, Zerlina stayed overnight with Dilly and family on Thursday. Weeza had an appointment near here and they were going to babysit, and then they suggested keeping her for the night. Weeza was dubious, and finally decided to stay with us so that she’d be on hand if z woke up very early and was upset. In addition, it saved driving home and back here the next day. Everyone had a wonderful time. Zerlina adores her cousins and Weeza was able to relax and chat and enjoy being cooked for. She said it felt like a holiday, especially since z was so happy and entertained. The Sage didn’t have any cousins and nor did I, not that I saw anyway, and my children’s cousins are quite a bit older than they are, so we’ve never known much of the enjoyment for children of an extended family.

Dilly’s dad’s put his back out and was hobbling painfully along using a walking pole when they came over here yesterday. He’s very uncomfortable and can’t sit or lie down without a good deal of pain. I remember dishing my back some years ago – I had to sleep on the floor for two nights as even a firmish bed wasn’t flat enough for me. It was very tiring as I couldn’t rest or relax and only standing up straight was relatively pain-free, and I was so tired that was the last thing I wanted; so I can sympathise with him. Dilly went to a car boot sale today and came home with various goodies. “I nearly bought a zimmer frame for you or dad to use when you’re here” she said pertly. “It was quite a bargain price.” Little rascal.

I keep forgetting that I’m going out tonight. I remembered yesterday and put my ticket in my bag, but it was only half an hour ago when I was planning dinner, having invited the family round for a barbecue tomorrow (hope over experience, indeed) which will use all the food I’d bought for the weekend, that I remembered, with a little jolt (slight overreaction there, but I plead involuntariness), tonight’s concert. So I’ve asked the Sage if he wouldn’t mind cooking his own dinner and I’ll eat out.

Some years I book for many of the Snape Prom concerts but this year only four. It used to be that they were my annual holiday – I couldn’t really get away overnight without a great deal of preparation – but now that isn’t the case. I booked rather late and so some concerts were sold out, but I’ve chosen a variety of jazz and a classical concert. I don’t quite know what to expect tonight but that’s what’s interesting. I’m going on my own so have no one to please but myself.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned that Al is having some major necessary work done on the shop. The upstairs sash window needed to be replaced and he was having some rotten wood cut out of the door frame at the same time, as well as some minor work done on the brickwork and the outside repainted. As so often happens when you start work on an old building, rather more rot was discovered than had been apparent and, as usual, most of it had been caused by bodged work many years ago, in this case when the shop front and door was being put in some 60 years ago. It meant that his iron-framed canopy was resting on the door frame which had been inserted in front of the original and has rot in, and not on any structurally solid part of the building at all. This is going to be an expensive operation – but there we go, he’s not had to spend anything much there in the nearly 7 years he’s had the shop.

Life is endlessly entertaining there, right in the middle of town by the market square. Because Ben the Builder had a ladder up against the side of the shop in the road, he’d put traffic cones against the pavement the other side to stop people parking (there are double yellow lines there anyway which are generally ignored). Yesterday, a woman came in the shop “the silver Audi isn’t yours, is it?” Al and I both confirmed it wasn’t. The owner had parked it a foot from the kerb (nicely away from the cones) and she couldn’t get past. She sighed and went and got in her car again and started to reverse. Al and I heard a shout from Ben. She had reversed into his ladder, which was clearly visible and which she had presumably meant to miss. Fortunately, it didn’t tip over. As she and Ben were discussing the matter, a woman scuttled along, head down, got into the Audi and hastily drove away. Could have been very nasty, but fortunately was quite amusing instead.

I just had another phone call about Ro’s car. The Sage advertised it for sale and it went the same evening. Pretty old, no road tax but a full MOT, diesel, reliable, so not surprising. I suppose we’ll be fending off phone calls for a while to come. I’m not sure why the Sage put the ad in for 2 weeks – a car always goes at once if you’ve priced it to sell. Anyway, Ro is now carless and dropped in to the conversation the other day that now he’s 25 (and past the dangerous young driver age) I might put him on my insurance. Cheeky child – he’s the one who chose to be carless.