I couldn’t sleep last night, the usual result of an early (11pm) night – why do I never learn? and it occurred to me that gently stroking my eyelid might send the lens downward.  It didn’t.  And, after a while, it further occurred to me that I might make it inflamed, so I stopped.  I went to the early service, came home, cooked the Sage and me poached eggs and I came to sit down and check emails.  I peered into a mirror, lifting my eyelid, and there was my lens!  It slid out easily, undamaged, as was my eye*.  I put it to clean for an hour – because I was due to play the organ at the next service, and have to wear a lens for that.  Yes, I will buy a new pair of glasses.  I tried my old ones, but I seem to have dropped and driven on them once too often, and they are decidedly misshapen, and very scratched, and no good at all.

I had some fairly vital documents to deal with, but I’ve done that and now feel that I can relax.  I’ve got quite a lot to do, but nothing to worry about.  It’s a great relief not to have deadlines looming.  Apart from the party, that is.  I’m afraid you’re all going to be sadly disappointed by my vegetable garden, which seems not to be happening this year.  However, at least, the next plan is to do a proper invitation with a link to my email so that I can send you my address.  I’m so looking forward to seeing you – well, some of you – that is, I’m looking forward to seeing everyone that can come, and very sorry that not all of you can.  But if you’re hesitating, I assure you that lots of us won’t have met each other before and that blogmeets are fun and not intimidating at all, although everyone** will feel a bit nervous.  But that means that we’re all at an equal disadvantage, so it’s all right.

Broadband has been up and down like a tart’s drawers, and the telephone has gone down again, so I’ll have to phone the service people tomorrow unless it’s magically put itself right again.  Fortunately, the Sage has made and received all sale-related calls, so it’s not too vital for the next few days.  And there’s always the iPhone.

*which did not slide out, obv.  Really, darling.  Don’t be absurd.

**Dave assures me he will not be nervous at all and that we can all rely on him to make the party go with a swing.  So that’s all right, then.

It has been a very pleasant and relaxing day.  The Sage has spent much of it on the phone, giving sale results to sellers, commission-bid buyers and friends.  Weeza stayed overnight, with Zerlina next door with her cousins, and we all had a late breakfast together.  Mid-morning, Phil arrived on his bike – he’d gone down to Ipswich last night to meet up with friends from where he used to work, and stayed overnight with one of them about 20 miles from here.  They all went off about noon, little z already rubbing her eyes and looking sleepy, as did Barry Bear who was snuggling up to her.

I slept myself this afternoon.  It was lovely.  I stretched out on the sofa in the sunshine and napped for twenty minutes or so.  I’d have slept longer, but the phone rang.  I’d phoned a friend of mine earlier on, in fact.  I’d heard yesterday, from mutual friends, that she is in hospital.  When I saw her a couple of weeks ago, she was waiting for an x-ray.  She’d been to the doctor because she was in pain and could hardly walk.  He thought it was a groin strain and she waited for it to get better, then went to a physiotherapist who thought it wasn’t a strain and thought it might be an arthritic hip.  The pain can come on very suddenly.  She went back to the doctor – she could hardly walk, and not without a stick – and he booked the x-ray, although he still didn’t think it was arthritis.  It took a fortnight for her to get it, and the morning after, her doctor rang her.  “I’m sending an ambulance,” he said.  “You’ve been walking around with a broken hip!” She has no idea how she did it, though she does remember stumbling and turning her ankle – still, quite a shock to find that something so trivial can result in a broken bone and a replacement hip.  Unfortunately, she then developed a blood clot and now is on Warfarin and not allowed out of hospital until they’re sure she’s over that.  She lives alone since her husband died, so will have to go to a convalescent home until she can look after herself.

She was in high good humour when I phoned, and told me all this without a hint of self-pity.  The final straw, she chuckled, was when she developed an itch on her leg and they said she has shingles to boot.  “I’m being fed calcium tablets for my bones – I’ve never had such marvellously strong nails!” she told me.  I said I’ll call in and see her on Monday.

I’ve been remembering a couple of occasions when dogs of ours got grass seeds behind their eyes.  In each case, a long rye grass seed head vanished completely, and was only discovered when it started to poke out again.  They were much bigger and jagged foreign bodies, and yet seemed to do the dog no harm at all.  My contact lens hasn’t reappeared, but is certainly still there as I can feel it, but my eye isn’t red or inflamed.  If it doesn’t come out by Monday morning, I’ll go to the optician.  I expect it will, though.  I mean, it hasn’t anywhere else to go.  Unless I blow my nose, of course.

It’s been the oddest day.  I can’t really tell you about the morning, but something cropped up urgently around 9.30 that meant that it was just as well that I’d got well sorted in auction preparations the previous night, at a time when my eyesight, co-ordination and concentration were barely up to it, because I suddenly found myself with a lot of extra work to do.  However, I got it done.  I don’t think that I’ve let anything go so far, although there is still more to do.    Deadline is Thursday.  I’ll be done well before then.

Weeza came over during the morning and then to  Lowestoft with us in the late morning.  We were set up for the sale in time to stop for lunch.  I’d made a lot of rolls, filled with ham, salt beef or cheese and tomato or cucumber, and the rest of the food was unashamed junk.  The shopping is slightly embarrassing, I buy a load of crisps, biscuits, cakes, soft drinks, that normally never darken the door.  But we need fuel that’s easy to eat and drink and gives quick energy, and that’s that.

All went fine during the view and the sale, I don’t need to go through it all.  I’m pleased to say that Weeza managed a decent nap in the bar during the afternoon, and I rested for a while and ate enough – years ago, I kept working through and then found myself getting dizzy.  Not good, when you’re handling thousands of pounds-worth of china that doesn’t belong to you.  Ever since, I have eaten regularly and rested when possible.  But around 5 pm, a problem developed.  My eyes must have become quite dry, and when I blinked, my contact lens (I only use one) blinked to the back and didn’t return.  It was okay, I was fine with short sight and only distance was difficult.  However, it’s still there, at the back of my eyeball.  I tried various things to bring it back, then and since getting home, and it hasn’t worked yet,  Since the only way of getting professional assistance is to get someone to drive me to A&E, over half an hour away, wait for several hours and then undergo an unpleasant procedure, I will wait for it to shift.  It will.  But I’m mightily fed up.  If it’s sore in the morning, I don’t need to wear a lens, I don’t need to drive and can manage without otherwise.  I can drive without, but that’s borderline and it’s better to be sure of the right side.

Still unwinding, darlings.  Years ago,I could be excited all evening, get home, go to bed and sleep at once.  Not now.  I have to relax first.  But it’s fine, I allow for it.  85% capacity gives an allowance.  Don’t plan 100%.  Keep capacity in hand.

If that sodding lens shifts, be assured that I will tell you.

It occurs to me that *of course* you’ll want to know about our latest project.  Our drive is 100 metres or so long, or maybe 100 yards, I haven’t measured, and then it forks around the small lawn, meeting up in a wider area by the two houses and several outbuildings.  This latter area is gravelled and the rest covered with tarmac (whilst there may be no nouns that can’t be verbed, I couldn’t decide on the correct spelling of the past tense of ‘to tarmac’).  It is at least 40 years since this was last top-dressed, and for the past 25 has had a Calor Gas lorry driving on it regularly, which is slightly wider than the present drive.  Then there are tree roots that have lifted it in places, and we agreed last summer that we needed to get it redone.  The heavy frosts of last winter were the clincher.

Whilst we’re about it, we’ll widen it a bit.  Partly to make it better for larger vehicles and partly because we’ve got absurdly little parking, considering the space there is. A few years ago, I tackled a very overgrown hedge around the lawn and took out a lot of it, including a very thick, tall laurel hedge and some long-dead hawthorn which was surrounded by scrubby lilac – I was sorry to lose the lilac, but there was more on the South side of the lawn.  The plan had been to incorporate these areas into the lawn, but grass has never had a chance to grow because the chickens scratch it out.  So, instead, we’re incorporating those parts into the gravelled area.

Jamie, our new gardener, has a nephew and a brother-in-law (not father and son) who will do the job, each having their own business.  The first part is to clear the edges of the drive ready for widening.  Then we need a foundation for the gravel or tarmac to go on.  We are putting in edging so that the grass doesn’t come back on to the drive.

The end of the drive is also an issue, where it meets the road.  There is a drain with a soakaway, but there used to be three flowering cherries, which the Sage’s parents put in to commemorate their 40th wedding anniversary in 1967.  Over the years, the roots grew into and cracked the drain, and also the soakaway didn’t have a trap for debris to fall into, so it’s always easily blocked.  The trees are gone for some years – one died and the others were not going to be far behind.  That will all have to be dealt with at the same time.

At the end, of course, Alan will come along to do the top dressing of tar and chippings and we’ll have some deliveries of gravel to tidy up at the house end.  It mustn’t be too deep or it’ll be awkward for Dilly to push the pram on.

Here are a few pictures.  The rough grass at the base of the wall is going to be a flower bed.  There had been an umbrella pine which was cut down a while ago and now we’re digging the stump out.  The final photo shows where the gas tanker has encroached on the verge and broken up the tarmac.

I’ll have to tell you about last night another day, I’m going to bed soon and I’m too tired to write.  It all went well today, except that they decided that a third person was needed to get the washing machine up the stairs, so I’ve had to make another appointment.  The very pleasant chap on the phone said he couldn’t do a two-hour slot for a three-man appointment, so it would be between 7am and 3pm.  I said I had a two and a half hour trip and he very kindly has booked it for 10.30 – 3 instead.  However, I’ve just had a text from my tenant, and he is offering to be home on Tuesday so I don’t have to be there at all.  That is enormously kind of him and I’ll take him up on the offer.

It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny.  The courtyard at the V&A was delightful – if you haven’t been there, there’s a large, shallow pool in a grassed courtyard, and people are allowed to paddle.  One little girl, fully clothed, was completely immersed and having a great time.  I haven’t been there for several years, and the jewellery gallery is new since I was last there.  Very impressive, whole lots of bling!

Our timed entry to the Aesthetic Movement exhibition was too late for me, I had to get on to the appointment at the flat, but fortunately someone else was happy to take my ticket, so I’ll be reimbursed.  I said to the friend who organised the visit, let me know if it’s something I shouldn’t miss and I’ll go again another time.

I had a long time to wait at the station, a couple of hours – I was already getting tired and couldn’t be bothered to go anywhere else, so fetched my pre-booked ticket from the machine, read the paper, went and got some food and just waited.  The train left on time, but was delayed by a freight train running late and we had to slow down several times, with the result that we were nearly 15 minutes late getting back.  No one’s fault, but it was the last straw to my tired back.  Still, James’ text has cheered me up.  And the Sage made me coffee.

Tomorrow, I’m interviewing a prospective caretaker and later have a meeting with the Head.  Then, although the end of term is Friday, I won’t be in that day as it’s our auction.

The phone is not repaired, but this is not the fault of the repair man, a cheerful chap named Mitchell.  It was very lucky, because I should have been out all day but I’d received several phone calls on my mobile for the Sage (which I wasn’t able to take) and so I popped home at lunchtime to tell him about them and ask him to ring back.  He wasn’t there,  but while I was, the BT van arrived and I was able to let Mitchell in the house.  As I didn’t have long to spare, I went next door to ask Al if he could come through, ready to lock up when the job was done.  I was quite surprised to arrive home again a couple of hours later to find him still there.

It turns out that the box inside the house needs to be replaced, which he’s done, the line across the field is in poor condition and there is also a fault on the junction box in the lane the other side of the field.  He will have to come back tomorrow with ladders and more equipment to finish the repair.  The Sage is taking me to Norwich but will be back before 8 o’clock, so that’s all right, and he won’t need to work inside the house much of the time anyway.

The internet has been up and down again, but so it has been at the school two miles away, so I doubt we’re the only ones.

I’ve had  a lovely time tonight, but I’ll tell you about that tomorrow because it’s late and I’m going to bed in a minute.  What I will tell you is our other good news, that I mentioned a week or two back as a possibility and a hope – that we have a gardener.  This is someone we have very much wanted to work for us for a long time, but it relied on him deciding to become self-employed.  He mentioned the likelihood a couple of weeks ago and we immediately offered him two days a week.  He will probably want to do some winter seasonal work, but that’s okay with us – we’d honour the two days all year round, but don’t really need it all winter.  This will be an enormous help to us, the garden and grounds are far more than we can manage and he doesn’t mind what he turns his hand to and will do any odd jobs or anything we need.  It’s brilliant, and he’s a really good friend too.  We’ve been to each other’s birthday parties, he and his wife were guests at Weeza’s wedding, and he’s someone we would turn to if in trouble.  Most recently, it was he we asked to help us dig Tilly’s grave.  That sort of true and practical friend.

So darlings, when you come here in less than four weeks’ time, you won’t actually have to hack your way through brambles.

I have always thought of my great-grandmother as a redoubtable woman.  Not that I have any reason, except that she was evidently proud of her Scottish heritage, because her first son (after whom my Ro is named) had a Gaelic name and her second, my grandfather, was educated in Scotland, rather than at the English public school of her husband’s family.

I thought of this because a friend enthused, by text, about his first taste of venison today.  I enjoy venison too, but I never tasted it while my father was alive.  He couldn’t bear it, and for a perfectly good reason.  At his school, near Perth, venison was a regular addition to the winter menu.  The local laird, generously, used to send deer as a gift, and the headmaster liked it high.  It was hung for quite some time, and apparently the school reeked of strong meat by the time it came to be cooked.  My father never developed a taste for it, and never ate it again.

The Sage, similarly, has had a lifetime aversion to celery.  His headmaster loved celery soup and a great deal of the vegetable was grown in the school kitchen garden.  You would hardly think that celery would influence someone’s tastes that badly, but the Sage never puts any on his plate.  I do use it in soups and casseroles, but always judiciously so that the flavour does not predominate, and he likes my cooking, so he accepts it quite graciously.

I don’t think I’ve got any food hang-ups.  My mother hated parsnips with a passion, but I don’t.  I had a bad experience with jugged hare once and have never tried it since, but I suspect that was the cook rather than the hare at fault.  When young, I wasn’t fond of gin, but I grew out of that a long time ago.  I’m not thrilled by cooked bananas, but that doesn’t mean I can’t eat them.  I deal with offal, stinky cheese and interesting flavours with enthusiasm, although I’m not altogether enamoured of the more snot-like consistency of some Chinese food, particularly the soups.  Still, nothing I can’t handle.

My great-grandmother’s name was Grace, by the way.

I have no idea why my internet connection returned of its own accord when the phone still doesn’t work, but I’m glad it did.  At least I’ve been able to email out all the papers I actually had worked on, but it was probably assumed I was making excuses about.  I don’t do that – if I haven’t done the work I say so.  Although I usually have, if a bit last-minute.

Mind you, my definition of last-minute isn’t really right up to the wire.  i plan a day in hand for unexpected problems, and I include a few intentions that I know can be jettisoned if necessary. It helps, of course, that I have extremely low standards, so that I’m quite satisfied with a level of doneness that probably would be the starting point for most people.

We had a very jolly meal together, all eleven of us, to celebrate Al’s birthday yesterday, Weeza’s tomorrow and Mothers’ Day today.  I haven’t felt tired in the least and my cold suddenly left me this evening, so I’m going to put yesterday’s lassitude down to not breathing properly for several days.  I should say, I hardly ever feel in the least ill  – the occasional cold or whatever excepted – and am lucky enough to be really healthy, as is the Sage.  The last year has been wonderful for me and I’ve appreciated every day since my hip operation.  It was only once I recovered from it that I realised for how long it had held me back, particularly in the final year or so when I was aware of every step I took and its discomfort.  Even so, I was grateful that it was just physical wear to a replaceable joint, not illness and not something I had to bear forever.  So take no notice if I whinge, I don’t really mean it.

I’m sorry, I’m terribly dull tonight.  I shall try to sparkle tomorrow.  Um.  Okay.  Goodnight, darlings.  I’ll have to backdate this to before midnight again.  Whoops.  Time for bed.

I’m not sure what went awry today. I woke up and lay feeling tired for a while, then the Sage brought me a cup of tea and said he was going out, I fell asleep again and resurfaced to find it was ten to ten, and I was supposed to be in the church at ten o’clock helping to make posies. Surprising how quickly you can be dressed and ready when you need to be. I considered going out without make-up until I looked in the mirror. Frankly, dreadful.

I called to say hello to Gill and Andy afterwards. They have moved house, to just round the corner. This will be much better for him as it’s a bungalow and there is no step so he can get out easily. He’s walking a lot better, but needs a wheelchair to go any distance. It’s half the size of their last house, they’ve some adjusting to do, but they won’t be short of friends dropping in!

After lunch, I was exhausted again and slept for ages. I don’t know how long, between one and two hours. I have no idea why, I’ve had a cold all week but there’s been nothing out of the ordinary. After that, I made cakes – butterfly buns – and we took them through to say Happy Birthday to Al. Thirty-five, blimey.

The Sage misses his laptop dreadfully. He only uses it for the Internet. Without it, he is having to talk to me. But, after all these years, what more is there to say? He was pleased about the cakes though.

I’m afraid that our Internet connection has gone down too, now. So I’m reduced to the phone on a slow connection. A lot of websites aren’t very geared up to mobile phone use and it takes a long time to get anything done. I have really been quite frustrated and felt rather the fool of April.

Still, happy birthday to my friends Avril and Jo, neither of whom is likely to read this, and things improved this evening when I went out with Al, Dilly and Squiffany to a fundraiser at the village school. We had a good time (you may work out from the heading the sort of evening it was, perhaps?) and I won an Easter egg and Squiff won a chocolate cow and some Body Shop fripperies.

The phone and broadband won’t be back on until Tuesday. I’ve had incoming calls transferred to my mobile – my just deserts for enjoying peace and quiet, I suppose. The company I use has much better reception than the Sage’s here, which I hadn’t realised when I took out his contract, so it makes sense for my phone to be used. I shall be sweet and adorable and leave it with him, if possible, when I’m out.

I may not be visiting much, however, as a consequence. Sorry, everyone.