Well, the evening went very well – there were ten of us.  We meet up once a month except during the winter – if everyone is there, we number 17 but that never happens.  I’m the youngest by far but that’s fine, I’ve never taken any notice of age.

I drove home, down the drive and round the corner to the place where I park and the engine stopped.  I restarted, put it into gear and it stopped again and wouldn’t start.  So I left it until the morning, when Jonathan kindly popped round from the garage, couldn’t get it going and said he’d arrange for it to be towed away.  I chose to be grateful that it had brought me all the way home.  And I don’t really need it this weekend and it isn’t until next Wednesday that both the Sage and I are going to be out in different directions at the same time, so really need two cars.  Sadly, we’re each going to a funeral, mine in Norwich, his near Ipswich.

I wanted to book Sunday lunch at the village pub and it seemed only polite to have a drink while I was there, so I sat down with my half pint to chat to the only other drinker in the bar.  A few other people came in later and three of us were sitting at the same table – darlings, take my word for it, I’m not going to do that too often.  By the time I’d been bought a couple more drinks (I hadn’t had any lunch)  I was feeling quite pie-eyed.  It wasn’t the beer I usually drink but another of John’s home-brew (he has a micro-brewery in what used to be the garage) and I suspect it was a little stronger, though I shouldn’t think by much.  Anyway, in the end I bought a round for the others, made my excuses and stumbled home.  I’m not drinking this evening, you’ll not be surprised to learn.

Wink will be here for the weekend and it’s her birthday on Sunday.  She’s with Al & co now, we’re visiting Ro tomorrow and she’s spending Sunday night with Weeza & family, rather than everyone coming here, the point being that two of the three have just moved house and she hasn’t seen their new places yet.  That’s the reason we’re going to the pub on Sunday, doesn’t seem worth cooking a big meal for three.  I’ll do a nice meal with champagne tomorrow night for her birthday.  She’s declared she doesn’t want me to buy her a birthday present, she’d rather we go to a play or exhibition in London, which is fine by me.

Oh, and the programme for the prom concerts at Snape has arrived.  In the days I couldn’t easily get away, I counted that as my summer holiday venue.  I sometimes went to ten or more concerts during the month, it was fun.  August evenings were also warmer then, by the way, and it was only twenty years ago.  Very odd.  Now I have holidays, I only go to a few – none for the past two or three years, I became discouraged at always going alone.  That is, I don’t mind going on my own, but once Ro was in Norwich and the Sage wasn’t bothered (he doesn’t see why he should do something he’s not very interested in just to keep me company), it started to feel a bit of a drag.  But not doing things is more of one, so I’m back in business. 

Blue Witch is marvellous, she’s found a brilliant site.  Called Geograph, it aims to collect photographs of the entire country, every bit of it, and invites people to submit their photos.  Over 80% of the country is represented so far.  Here’s one of the latest pictures – and of course, I had to look up this area and found one of our house.  Old Manor House, indeed.  No, it was never that, but it made me chuckle.

It’s been a most fine day, because Roses came to lunch.  Ben instantly adored her, as you might expect, but she dealt with that very capably and we talked non-stop for hours.  We took Ben for a walk on the marshes too, and he had a brilliant time, coming back wet and muddy from splashing in the river.  I should have taken a picture of the long line of cows walking back to the farm for milking time – I was more concerned about the chances of Ben getting in their way, but he was perfectly well-behaved – and besides, he then noticed one of his dog friends being taken for a run, so went off to say hello.

And this evening I’m out to supper.  The mad social whirl, darlings.

I spent most of the day with Weeza and the children – Weeza has been immensely helpful and kind (I say ‘has been’ but it’s an ongoing thing) to her old mum and dad, busy as she is, and Gus is taking a long time to get over the general state of unwellness that has afflicted him for a while.  One cold has led to another, he’s quite a skinny lad at the best of times, so when he’s unwell and loses his appetite, he looks quite peaky.  Anyway, I suggested we spend a day in Norwich.  Weeza has become so marvellously slender that she keeps shrinking out of her clothes (she’s thinner than I am, boooo) and I wanted to buy her something.

She was able to buy new jeans – skinny as, darlings – and a top in Gap and then we went for lunch.  It’s such a pleasure, taking any of my grandchildren out for a meal because they are charming and well behaved, and in any case I’ve a couple of party tricks for bored children waiting for food and was, for a couple of minutes, drawn to use one of them for Zerlina.  But then the food came, so that was fine.

I asked little z what she would like me to buy for her and, after consideration, she thought she could do with a new party frock.  Her mother agreed, she hasn’t got such a garment that still fits and one never knows when a party may come up, so has to be prepared, and we thought that Laura Ashley might have something (it was just round the corner) – and so it (one can hardly say ‘she’, can one, so long after the lady’s death? Did she fall downstairs, poor woman, or is that my faulty memory – CBATG, I’m afraid) did.  It was the first dress that z tried on that fitted the bill, and it had 40% off.  Oh joy.  £24 the original price, um… … … £9.60 off … must have been £14.40, and it was certainly a bargain.  Then we went to Jarrolds and discovered that the toy department was rather nicely set out nowadays – they’ve had a bit of a revamp since I was last there before Christmas, I’m sure, and the children played happily with wooden toys and Lego for some time.  Sadly, Gus suddenly became tearful again and we had to beat a hasty retreat, just when I was about to buy him a toy.  I owe you, Jarrolds, I shall not forget.  I’m the one who made the Lego horse, though it would have been a camel had I had five more minutes.

Weeza and I chatted at her house while Gus napped and Zerlina played with James-next-door.  When I left, I called on Ro and stuffed the back of the car with some of the branches we’d cut down last week.  There’s an awful lot more, he’s going to see if he can find someone with a trailer to take it away.  I pruned a nice rose bush while I was about it, but I’m afraid the clematis is beyond help and we’ll have to cut it hard back and see if it will survive.  It cannot be simply pruned – I tried.  I failed.  

Can I say, cautiously, that this seems to have been a good day?  I’m not at all sure why because it’s not been that eventful, but I slept for hours at a time last night so that’s probably it, because it’s been a bit dull in many ways – paperwork related, darlings, need I say more?

As an example of dullness, I took a couple of photos of where the greenhouse no longer is and of what it’s reduced to.

The snaky branch near the top of the first photo is a grape vine.  The chickens can eat the unripe grapes this autumn, I can’t bring myself to destroy it yet.  I’m not good at the slashing and burning thing, I construct rather than destroy by preference … ooh, at last an idea for a post, I knew one would happen if I waffled long enough.

I was having a conversation a few weeks ago with a couple of friends and, I’m afraid, we were rather pulling to pieces another person.  It was agreed that both of them are creative/artistic types, but that she is ultimately destructive.  She’s one of those persons who, if she breaks a cup, she’ll say to her (innocently on the other side of the room) husband, “Look what you made me do!”  Everything has to be someone’s fault, yet it’s never her own.  In the garden, which is large and would look lovely informal, everything is ruthlessly cropped into shape.  It’s not that straight lines rule, she does have an eye for beauty, but that it all has to be relentlessly tidy – we concluded (oh dear, three women and a bottle of wine) that it’s the cutting back and destruction of the clippings that attracts her most.

Me?  No, I’m not creative.  Not an artistic bone in my body.  It was agreed that I’m constructive and, as a practical Z, I was quite happy to go along with that.  But let’s face it, you’re nicer to the people you’re with than those you’re talking about, so I may have been unduly flattered.

I should be working, but I had a very frustrating time looking for my wallet, the one that holds membership cards and so on.  Eventually found it where it had fallen behind the bureau.  So now I’ve finally changed my blood donor appointment, which clashed with something else, though I’d had a free day when I made it back in January.

Don’t you find that’s the way with appointments though, of whatever sort?  You can have a free week except for one vital thing, and that’s bound to be the day that someone invites you to a non-alterable party.  I booked a range of concerts for the Aldeburgh Festival and it’s the day I have two, one in the afternoon and one in the evening, that Wink asked me to go to a literary lunch in London that I’d really have liked to attend.  Similarly, all work piles up at the same time, even if you think you’ve planned things quite nicely.  Only too often, it’s the social side of life that has to be jettisoned, though I’m trying hard not to let that happen too much any more.

Deciding not to grow vegetables will save me a couple of hours a day all summer, I realise.  But since that’s often the time I enjoy most, the realisation doesn’t give me any satisfaction.  Although it’s not as simple as that really – I love growing things, but the weeding gives me the pip.  And for years, the weeding, watering, picking, then having to prepare the vegetables, then cook the damn meal was rather more than good nature could necessarily stand, every day for months on end.

I’m quite annoyed to have received a cheque in the post relating to the Nadfas meeting the week before last, from someone who hadn’t got around for paying for lunch in advance as I’d reminded her several times to do (this is the only real negative feeling I have about this job: the necessity to nag, which is so tedious from my point of view and the recipients’).  So the last time I wrote, I asked her to send it to the Treasurer instead of me as I’d hand all cheques to him at the meeting.  So I’ll have to pay to send it on and bad cess to her, really.  I can see if the bank will pay it into the account, but I very much doubt it, a third party cheque into a different bank’s account.  

 

It’s been a productive day.  I only had the hymns for today’s service first thing this morning, so decided to wing it, except for not recognising one of them at all – nope, didn’t know it, but hey, sight reading is how a lazy person gets by.  So I did.  Then I spent some time taking photos of all the lots for the next sale in June – since them I’ve cropped and occasionally straightened them and in one case edited – there was a lot number on one from the last time it was auctioned (it’s surprising, the number of collectors who don’t take them off, nor even wash the china if it’s dirty) and neither of us noticed.  I’d put everything away … so simply edited it out.  Everything has a full description of damage and restoration, I hid nothing except a sticky label.

The greenhouse has been demolished and the brambles all removed.  Next, the wire will go up on the side and a half of the veg garden that has neither wall nor greenhouse, then the chooks can roam.

And this afternoon, Hannah and Sam brought young Rupert to visit.  He is adorable!  Absolutely as delightful as he looked in his FB photos.  Ben was hopelessly overexcited to start with, so in the end we took them both outside and they had a whale of a time.  Although Roops is tiny compared to Benj, he wasn’t at all afraid and they romped about.  When Rupert was chasing Ben was the funniest time, but I was laughing too much to think of taking pictures.  But here they are together.

Rupert is 8 months old now and will come here at the end of July for a couple of weeks – I expect we’ll have Ben until the end of this month at least.  This is such fun, though the house is a complete shambles.  Still, it doesn’t matter, does it?

1 The sun is shining again.  How unusual, to have the best weather at the weekends.

2 The descriptions and condition report for the auction in June are just about done, now the photos must be taken, then the catalogue can be set out ready to go to the printers.

3 Great quantities of brambles have been hacked back and a pile is ready to be burnt and the greenhouse is in the process of being dismantled.  I’m sad, it’s my favourite greenhouse, but the decision makes sense for several reasons.

I’m beyond being sentimental, although I expect we won’t dispose of the pieces yet.  Just in case…

4 A year ago, I was in India.  Nandini and Joe’s wedding was first in Chennai on the 8th April and then in Vellore nearly a week later, on the 14th (two ceremonies: she’s Hindu and he’s Christian).  The temperature was over 40º C in Vellore.  I’m reminded of it by my Facebook picture, which is still of me talking to a temple elephant.  I should change it to something more recent.

5 The Sage is out and the dog is asleep.  It’s marvellously quiet here.

Five things –

1 I seem to be making a habit of early-hours online conversations, but it really does while away the hours of insomnia in good company, so thanks to Zain and I hope you slept eventually – I did, right through the alarm, so just as well I didn’t have any appointments first thing.

2 I don’t think I can replicate Facebook videos here, but if you’re on FB, do look at my page (befriending me first if need be, of course) and check out Rupert, who is adorable.  I should say, ADORABLE because .. well, you’ll see.  I love him even more than Ben – not that I’ve met him yet – and have told Hannah it’ll be hard to hand him back after their holiday.

3 Ben had a bit of leftover salmon from the fridge.  I only turned my back for a moment.  Little tinker.  Well, socking great bit tinker.  I can’t remember how I trained Chester not to steal food, but I did – I just explained to Tilly and she promised never to do it again, and didn’t.  At least he didn’t get the leftover pork’n’leek sausages I was intending to eat for lunch.

4 The four ‘affordable rent’ houses next door are nearly ready, the utilities will be laid on next week and they’re putting in the driveways etc – they look lovely.  Two are three-bedroom, the other two two-bedroom.  There was an open day at the village hall a few weeks ago and we went to find out the criteria for applying for one – very pleased that residency, now or in the near past, was the top requirement.  I’ll probably write more about that at some time, but it comes close to the more-or-less political sort of thing I normally avoid, so may steer clear.

5

                     
We all knew he’d end up on my lap.  He really is a bit big for it, but I’ve never known a dog who minded that.

My parents bought all their furniture at auctions in Dorset when they were first married and had no spare money at all.  They ran the hotel but took no wages and it was barely profitable – the price you could charge for meals was restricted in times of rationing after the war and, although they made money in the summer, it was mostly drained away during the winter.  My mother used to say that she put down £2 a week for flowers and picked them from the garden instead, and that was the only money she had, although they lived ‘free’ at the hotel, with a flat and all food provided.  This was no cheat, it was their hotel, originally belonging to my grandfather until he gave it to them on their marriage.

Do you think that email has got out of hand?  Blue Witch does, in that most of hers is marketing or spam, very little worth reading.  I agree to an extent (I rarely check my spam folder, but notice sourly how many emails are directed there), but I still have quite a number of emails that are gladly received.  Glancing at my inbox at present – and I haven’t been deleting very assiduously, so it’s a fairish reflection of what I receive – about ten of them are personal emails,  five are school (usually I’d have many more, but it’s the holidays), several more are notifications, eg from my credit card company, insurance, letting agency, about half are marketing and the rest are blog comments.  In fact, a lot of my emails are blog comments but I normally delete them as they come in – not the comments of course, the notifications.  It so happens I emptied the spam folder yesterday: there are nine in there now.