Monthly Archives: June 2013

Stet

The sale went well and the Sage was great.  We’ve acquired a weekend guest – that is, we already had one whom we’d invited, but one poor chap had a car accident on the way here from Gloucester and he was a bit stranded, so I brought him home, cooked him sausage, bacon and egg, fried potato and tomato (“oh, that’s far too much for me,”he said, just before polishing it all off) and have sent him to bed.  He was anxious because he has a ticket for Peter Grimes at the Aldeburgh Festival on Sunday – but so have I, so I can take him.  We can sort out his hire car over the weekend in time for him to go home on Monday.

It was a busy and stressful afternoon, a lot of phone calls and minor glitches, but it all came good and people are so lovely.  Darlings, if ever you consider becoming disillusioned, just let yourself be open to the kindness and friendship there is in everyday life and let people help you, and if that sounds twee or cutesie, then just take me at face value instead and let it stand.

I’m a bit tired right now, though I don’t know whether I’ll sleep or not – I really want a cup of coffee, but am not sure that strong black coffee is the way to go right now.  I may compromise with strong black decaff.  Anyway, I’ll walk Benny the Bean and go to bed.

Endings

Tomorrow is the Sage’s final auction and I don’t think I’ve a lot to say about it.  My feelings are very mixed and it’s going to be an ordeal.  I hope it does well.

I haven’t done all my preparation work, though most of it, and I’ve done the food for tomorrow.  Lots of straightforward food is vital, when you’re handling valuable china you have to keep up your blood sugar level.  We’ve got a housesitter for the day, too many people know we’ll be out  to leave the place empty, and of course there’s Ben to be considered too.

I’ve been wondering for a long time, but never sure how to put it – do other people feel they’ve done what they needed to do in life?  I know the ‘bucket list’ thing is popular, but I’ve never had any notion of such a thing.  Years ago, as my youngest child approached his 18th birthday, I had a feeling of relief – job done, I’d completed the upbringing of my family and didn’t have any more obligations in that respect.  Similarly, I looked after my mother until she died in her own bed, as she wanted.  And after this is over, I’ve supported the Sage to the completion of his career.  Not that he intends to retire altogether, but he won’t particularly need my help.

It’s hard to describe what I mean, because you’re going to take it the wrong way whatever I say.  But I see no particular long-term purpose in life except to complete the tasks I start, particularly in relation to my family and I felt I’d ticked off the important jobs years ago – well, the only important job, raising each child to adulthood.  I’m not suggesting there’s nothing left to live for – sorry, you either get what I mean or you don’t, I’m just wondering if anyone does?

Anyway, I’ve had a contact lens in my eye since Tuesday, which is a nuisance.  It’s stuck there at the back and won’t come out.  It’s only slightly uncomfortable except when I wake at night, when it’s quite scratchy.  I haven’t time to get it sorted out, it’ll have to happen in its own time.  Actually, I’m a bit fearful of anyone messing about with my eye, I don’t want to go to the optician about it.

Z’s week so far in pictures

A bit short of time tonight, so here are some fairly random pictures –

 This is my idea of what to do with the wall (it’s not curved, it’s a panoramic view)
This is the Sage’s.  You can see, perhaps, what I battle against.

 Fishmongers’ Hall from the garden
And the garden from the Hall
 As JaneRowena says, there used to be a choir school here and a famous recording was made in the Temple Church.
A couple of names I recognise, Walford Davies in particular, and I see that there was a woman organist at the end of the 18th Century
 The chickens tried to hide their eggs.  We found them.  With the ones in the nestbox, that made 35 found in one day.  H’mm
She’s rather a bully, but she follows me around, so I’m fond of her.

Fishmongers and a Temple

Yesterday’s London visit was to the Fishmongers’ Hall – this may sound unlikely, but the Livery Companies used to be of immense importance in the City of London and the Fishmongers’ Guild was ranked fourth in order of precedence.  Can’t remember the second or third, but the Mercers were first and the Goldsmiths were fifth – which shows the huge importance of the fishing industry in mediaeval times and afterwards.  A fabulous building containing many treasures, including the famous Annigoni portrait of the Queen soon after her coronation, which was originally commissioned by the Fishmongers – who knew?  Also who knew? there was a pair to it, a youthful Prince Philip looking frankly quite pissed off.  Apparently, rumour has it, that he and the artist didn’t particularly get on.  Anyway, although the Fs own it, they don’t hold the rights to reproductions, which are held by A’s estate.

Then we went off to the Inns of Court for lunch.  We sat in the massive dining hall of the Middle Temple, some 101 feet long by 41 feet wide at the High Table, which easily seated the thirty of us, being made from four 29 feet planks of wood from a single oak tree, given by Elizabeth I.  Amazing, really was.  Good lunch, too.  And then I went to look at the Temple Church, built by the Knights Templar and modelled on the Temple in Jerusalem.

None of them the most obvious tourist attractions, but indicative of the wealth of fascinating historical buildings and artefacts in London.  And it was a gorgeous day.  I had a bit of time to stroll round the gardens and went along to look down on a sunken garden.  At eye level there was a wisteria in bloom, planted in the garden beneath, and it had the most gorgeous scent.  Ours has a slight scent, but nothing like that.  I wonder what variety it is – it was a deeper colour than ours, which still isn’t in full bloom.  I’ve never known it so late.

While waiting for the coach to pick us up, Pip and I stood on the Embankment looking at the Thames.  We noticed the tide was just on the turn, you could see that the water was flowing strongly downstream and then, a few minutes later, there were eddies and swirls when the incoming tide started to fight against it.  A couple of balloons tied together drifted downriver, and a few minutes later came back again, only to pause and bob about in the river in front of us, held by the turning tide.

Z says the wrong thing

Friends called round this evening and I’ve run out of steam.  I’m Zedded out, having been hostessy and enthusiastic for the past couple of hours.  Luckily, they’re dog lovers, because Ben had been left alone a fair bit of the day and wanted a lot of cuddles.

This week is going to be hard work for several reasons and I’m not looking forward to any of it.  But it’ll all get dealt with, one way and another.
London was very good, though not without its mini-crisis at the start of the day.  Jill, who has organised these visits for several years, is stepping down now and I hope the next person will be as good, it is certainly something I’d never offer to do.  I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, I’m going to take the dog for a walk and go to bed now.  
Oh, I will tell you one thing, a bit of a faux pas I made this morning.  A friend was telling me about a dreadful mishap.  Her daughter’s dog was paralysed in the back legs, I suppose it was hip dysplasia, but the family loved him very much and couldn’t bear for him to be put down, so helped him about the place.  But he fell in the swimming pool and died – they think he had a heart attack and are not sure if that or the water killed him.  When she and her husband arrived to commiserate, the son-in-law had rather hit the bottle in his distress, but the dog was loaded into the car and taken to another family member, who has plenty of land where a grave was dug and a burial was performed.  Then they went home, where s-i-l got out the brandy bottle.  “He was drunk,’ she said, “I’ve never seen him like it.  He really loved that dog and was terribly upset.”  “Drowning his sor…. oh, sorry,” I said, foot-in-mouthedly.  

Dear reader…

I’ve just finished addressing ten envelopes and it’s not often that happens, not hand-written.  The sale catalogues go out to hundreds of people, of course, but I print the labels.  I could have this time, but ten labels on a sheet of 21 seems a bit wasteful.

I’ve never got around to typing up my entire address list so that – er, can’t mention it when it’s more than six months ahead, but *you know what* card addresses can be printed out.  Sensible, can’t be argued with, but it does seem a bit impersonal.  On the other hand, when I get around to it, I do print out address labels for postcards before I go on holiday.

I was struck today by Lyle‘s remark that it’s not surprising that a laptop bought in September 2009 had just about had it.  I looked up the age of the Sage’s (on here, you might expect it because it’s better than any other records I’ve ever kept) and it was bought only two months later, yet I think of it as nearly new.  My present Mac is a year and a half older than that.  Again, I don’t think of that as very old.  But that’s probably because I am and I’ve always been used to having things that last.

Today, it was too hot to do all the heavy lifting that we’d planned, so I planted up/out everything that I’ve been raising in pots.  Much more satisfying than cutting things down and I was quite happy.  We also turned out the porch again.  Each time, I explain to the Sage that it’s to be kept clear apart from one designated area for my bike, wellies, regularly used bits of kit such as bike pump, metal detector, battery charger – and each time he starts dumping stuff.  Some of it is, literally, rubbish and has gone straight in the bin or on the bonfire.  I’m afraid that he’s getting worse, and he was pretty bad to start with.  However, it’s clear again now, I sat in there and listened to BBC iPlayer this afternoon, Ben between me and the Sage on the bench, playing On Your Farm, broadcast at larkfart this morning, because Jonathan and Dulcie were being interviewed about their new cheesemaking enterprise.  And then I came in and made a nice little plateful of cheese-topped oatcake, cucumber, pepper and olives to nibble along with my gin and tonic, because I hadn’t eaten much all day and was going to have a sudden energy dip before dinner if I didn’t watch out.  As it was, I relaxed and read the paper for a bit before going to start cooking.

Which is why I had to write all those letters so late this evening.  I’m off early tomorrow, soon after 6 o’clock, because I’m going to London for the day.  

Z is cautiously optimistic

…which is silly of course, but the latest round of grass cutting seems to indicate that there might be an end in sight.  This is not because we’ve cut nearly all the grass but because we found a pheasant’s nest and, not far away, a hen pheasant with ten chicks, and we’ve decided to leave most of the rest as cover for them, because there are magpies, crows and hawkish birds about (I’m a bit vague about details in that respect, even if I do know a hawk from a harnser) and they’ll have ’em if they get the chance.  We’ve got four hen pheasants about, so if they all have a successful brood, the Sage will be in his element.  He adores baby birds and they respond remarkably well to him.

The baby blackbirds nesting in the eaves of Kenny’s shed have fledged too and were following me about as I cut the grass, looking for insects.  We’ve agreed that Ben can’t be allowed off the lead in the garden, we’re not having birds scared by him.  He’ll have to learn to leave them alone in the long run, but I don’t feel quite up to the risk of it all yet.

Anyway, we’re nearly on schedule for May’s work – that is, another good go tomorrow and it’ll be done, I hope, apart from taking down the summer house, which I always reckoned would wait for June, so only a slippage of a couple of days, the list having been labelled Spring 2013.   I’ve added a few more jobs – five, in fact, three of which are to be done this month.

Enough about that?  I agree. Erm, let’s see – oh yes, I know.  I’ve been wondering, do people still bother with their reader statistics?  I get an email every week saying how many each day and that sort of thing, but it’s usually pretty consistent and I don’t take much notice.

In fact, when I do delve into the details, I find that the majority of you are regular visitors.  I always reckon this place is like a soap or daily serial.  Read it once or twice and it’s pretty uninteresting, but keep going for a week or two and it grows on you, though you may not know why (I don’t either).  Fairly consistently, about 65% of hits are from this country and another 25% from the US and Canada, but the rest are from all over.  Mostly Australia, New Zealand, Germany, France and Ireland, but the final few can be from anywhere.  In the last five days there was someone in Budapest and another in Brasilia, for example.  I had a visitor from Dubai a week or two back, though that might have been a friend who was there on business. Among French readers,  I have a fairly regular visitor from Paris, but I’ve never had a comment from that part of France – you’re most welcome of course, I don’t expect you to comment.  The German visitor is, I presume, Mago, because there’s usually only one but it’s a regular and there’s no referring link (for those who don’t know, that suggests you’ve got it bookmarked so come straight here).  Other friends click through from blog to blog, eg via Tim or Rog, and one-off visitors arriving hopefully in search of information type something about razor-blades or plastic bags in their search engine and find that I’m no help at all.