The pudding was Eton Mess and the cheese was the local one I mentioned last week.  I’ve promised to send some to Blue Witch, but the weather has been so hot that I was afraid it would ooze out of the box.  Besides, I snaffled the last piece for ourselves yesterday – I will get some more next week, BW.

It was lovely to catch up with old friends – Paul’s two sisters called here a few weeks ago and it was the first time we’d seen them for years.  I’ve seen Paul and Jenny more recently, as I’ve visited them a few times when I’ve been staying with Wink, but Russell usually stays at home.  Oddly enough, now that Al & co have moved out so that it’s a lot less easy to get away, he’s talking about holidays and visits.  I suppose it’s the effect of having retired from auctioneering, but he really could have taken breaks if he’d ever wanted to.  I have a feeling he’s starting to think he’s been missing out, which is a pity, but it hasn’t been for want of invitations, particularly from me.

Several people have mentioned how fine the delphiniums are this year.  I don’t know the reason – maybe the cold spring suited them, in that slower top growth let them build up their roots more strongly?  Anyway, a few pictures to show you what I mean.

I had to tell you, young Hadrian called round today, with his daddy and big brother, and straightaway wanted to see the tortoise.  Who, when picked up, obligingly wee’ed, even as I told the story of the party trick.

Ben wasn’t thrilled with the muzzle, but realised at once, or so it seemed, that chickens were safe from him.  So he trotted off to the field instead.  And managed to get it off his schnozzle, but I’ve tightened it up ready for the next time.

This morning, I indulged in a spot of self-pampering – no, loves, please.  A mini-pedicure and much lathering on of body lotion.  As a result, the dog wanted to lick me.  He loves it when someone smells nice.

Russell just handed me some very delicious stem ginger ice cream.  I’m afraid, terribly afraid, of resultant weight gain, because it could not be resisted.

Tomorrow, we have old friends coming for lunch.  I haven’t decided on a pudding yet.  I have chosen the napkins, though.

1 Wink is very pleased to have been put on the waiting list for a new hip, because she’s finding it difficult to get about at present.  I know what it’s like and completely sympathise.  It’ll probably be November, which will suit her nicely.

2 I feel so mean, I’ve been to buy a muzzle for Ben.  I really want to let him out in the garden, but I’m not having the bantams terrorised and he’s got to learn they are not to be bothered.  In the meantime, at least he can’t pick them up and take them for a jog round the garden.  I took him in the car to the pet shop to have the right size fitted, but the assistant had to come out to the car.  He’s not keen on the car and it takes two people to load him, one for the back and one for the front because he’s heavy.

3 I also bought a gizmo called a Shedder, because he’s still moulting.

1 This evening, I’m working on correcting the minutes of the last governors’ meeting.  I feel Ofsted looking over my shoulder, though when I glance behind, no one is there.  I still cover my back at all times, to be sure they’re accurate, not only in regard to what was said but what was meant too.

2 I ironed those tablecloths this afternoon.  The ironing basket is empty.  I feel pretty damn good.

3 I was really tired an hour ago, but whisky and chocolate put me right.  We finished the cakes this afternoon, but Martina has sent me a recipe for cake – I’m being led astray.

4 Please think of my sister, who has an appointment for a hip x-ray tomorrow.

5 Fingers crossed for Weeza and Phil, who are expecting to sign the contract to buy the house of their dreams in the next week or two.  

So, this morning I watered the tubs and vegetables and went to church.  One of the hymns, which I hadn’t practised in advance, had the wrong tune in the book.  In two books.  The other two books didn’t have the hymn at all.  So I warned Sue, who was taking the service, and kept browsing through the metrical index.  I finally found it, but didn’t have a chance to play it through, of course.  “I know what you were doing through the sermon…” she said later.  I got through it of course, one of those ‘right hand tune, left hand random chords’ occasions.

I’ve caught up on the washing!  Of course, that happy state of affairs lasts a single day, until one undresses in the evening, but all the same…  I’d put on a nice dress, but changed into shorts and a t-shirt later – I know, darlings, none of you has ever seen me in shorts and nor will you, unless possibly on a beach.  I’m far too old, nothing sadder than a 1661.

In the afternoon, I wanted to watch the tennis, so couldn’t possibly be idle all that time – what, me?  Idle?  Well… (I’m far too fond of the ellipse, I know) anyway, I was resolved to do the ironing.

Here we are – the ‘before’ picture –

I ironed solidly for five hours.

 This is what 111 napkins looks like.  The ones on the right are the linen ones.  I forget how many, over four dozen.

Most of the clothes are mine, I keep up with ironing Russell’s shirts.  I even ironed 14 (sorry, I counted nearly everything in the end, but I had been ironing for FIVE HOURS) handkerchiefs and noticed one that was particularly pretty.  So was the next, and it had embroidered initials, CF.  When I checked, so had the previous one.

Miss Fitt was the old lady I’ve told you about before, who lived to be 102 and a half.  She was an expert needlewoman, even her pocket hankies were exquisite.  I’m rather happy to think that I’m still using them, at least 50 years after they were made: she was born in 1882 so they could be Victorian, but she continued to do needlework until she was in her seventies.

The final four tablecloths defeated me.  Have I mentioned that I ironed for FIVE HOURS?  I’ve re-rinsed them and will part-dry them again, so that I can iron them damp tomorrow or Tuesday.  By the way, a tip on ironing napkins that have dried – dampen every other one and make a stack – the damp will work through them all and each one, as you get down to it, will be part-ironed already.

And wasn’t it a great match?  Really fine tennis, very exciting.

I was sitting here wondering what to write about when I remembered I had photos.  Oh good.  I’ve grown vegetables rather than flowers for many years, but now we just don’t need all the vegetables, it being just the two of us here now.  I’ve been flagging anyway for a while, they’re so much work and I couldn’t spare time or energy for the couple of hours a day which was the minimum I used to spend in the kitchen garden in the summer.  So I’ve just got a few vegetables this year, have given the veg garden to the chickens for now and have been enjoying the flower bed I planted last year.

I’ve just about caught up on the washing.  Just three hand towels and a shirt, which don’t make up a full load, of course, to go.  However, since some linen napkins and tablecloths were involved, I’m afraid ironing will follow.  Maybe it’ll give me something to do when the tennis finals are on.  A couple of beds have still to be made, but otherwise I’ve even done the housework, which means I won’t have much of it to do for weeks.  Although we’re planning to do some turning out.  That is, Russell is in the process of turning out his Room of Mystery (the main mystery is how to get in there, since it is a room with a door but no visible means of opening it), which means he’s spread lots of stuff all over the dining table and floor, but it’s highly unlikely he’ll ever get around to sorting it out.  So, when we need the big dining room again, he’ll have to shove everything back again and it’ll be more disordered than before.  Unless I insist on *helping*, of course.

I’m still thinking about dreams – you know, there are still a couple of dreams I remember from childhood, and I only realised one of them was a dream years later, when it dawned on my that what I’d seen in it was impossible.  And by years, I mean several decades.  I’m not the quickest thinker, have to admit.  The other one, I did know was my imagination, since it involved a family of bears taking up residence in the kitchen and me levitating up the stairs.  Even I couldn’t rationalise that.

After reading Tim’s latest post, it occurred to me that I haven’t attempted The Times crossword for several weeks, so I had a go this afternoon, while watching the tennis.  I’ve solved six clues so far, which is about as far as I’m likely to get for the moment.  Hopeless.  It takes me days to get back into the swing of things.  My father was a great crossword solver, one of the sort of people who’d solve the whole thing in minutes.  I still have some books of puzzles that he did some of and passed them on to me, so my childish writing is in them too.  I normally write the answers in lower case, because he did, and I see that I tried to imitate his style of lettering too.

I haven’t been out of the house and garden all day today and it’s been rather nice.  I’ve got out of the way of just pottering around.

You know how it is that hair doesn’t seem to grow steadily?  One day it’s neat or smooth, whichever area we’re talking about, and then next it’s unbearably shaggy?  I’m thinking hair on the head or bearded chin or, in this case, eyebrows.  Yesterday – well, they’re not exactly groomed but at least they arch more or less where I want them to – they were okay in the morning, but when I went to bed, they suddenly seemed to have bristled.

Except they haven’t.  I’ve looked in the mirror this morning and they’re fine.  That means I must have been dreaming again – and the extra clue is that I don’t look in the mirror before going to bed.  At least it wasn’t a nightmare this time, but I’ve no idea what’s going on in my subconscious mind.  The night before, there was something that I think really happened, but now I’m doubting, maybe I dreamed that too – I’m cracking up, darlings, it’s the heat – at night, at least, until today.  I’ve changed to the summer duvet at last.

At least it’s not as a result of being too busy, because I’m winding down for the summer.  Things are getting ticked off lists, events happen and not much is going in the diary for the next few weeks – well, the week after next is busy but even that is largely social, domestic and pleasure.  I still tend to keep to school summer holidays and aim to relax in August – and am very fortunate to be able to do that, of course.

And then I wrote a whole lot about schools but I’ve deleted it, you’ll be glad to find.  I’m here to waffle cheerfully, it’s the Z way.

What I’ll tell you instead is that I’m jolly glad you didn’t eat all the cake at the weekend.  Thanks to Madeleine and Liz leaving the leftovers behind, we’ve been rather well fed at teatime this week.  There’s not much left of either of them now.  Nor of anything else, except the ham.  That’s still going strong, but I’ll slice it up later and freeze it for later, we can’t eat it all yet.

I was quite struck, a few years ago, when we went to the New Year’s Day party (which always starts with a hearty country walk) of our friends G and A, when Ro met – oh, Ro.  This isn’t working.  When Ronan met Robin.  They had known each other since they were two years old, but hadn’t met for several years.  Very pleased to see each other, they both stepped forward and immediately shook hands.  I was frankly surprised that two young men – early to mid twenties – would think to greet contemporaries and old, if not close friends like that.  But the handshake isn’t showing any sign of going away and nor, I think, should it.

Having said that, we’ve all, or nearly all of us, embraced the kiss over the last few decades and good for us.  Although I could digress for a while there and talk about the nuances of a single kiss over multiples, the air kiss, the kiss on the cheek, the hug – but that’s one for another post sometime.

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine introduced me to her small grandson.  No, wait – she introduced him to me, of course (oh, the nicety of who to mention first on these occasions and the number of times I get it wrong, not because I don’t know but because I just dive in cheerily without thinking).  She was slightly embarrassed, I could see, at having to remind him to shake hands, but he is only four and a little shy.  But she’s right to insist on it, because it makes it a proper greeting from person to person and doesn’t sideline him.  It puts us on an even footing and shows mutual respect and, as he grows older, will relieve him of the awkwardness of wondering how a stranger will expect to be greeted.

This boy is undoubtedly destined to go to a leading public school and end up something of a big cheese somewhere, but that only makes it the more useful for the children of lesser people like me to know what’s what.  Pugsley, for example, is going through the slightly awkward phase of being uncomfortable with hugs and kisses unless they’re from his parents, but hasn’t got the confidence at present to talk his way through a social situation.  However, since I started shaking his hand when we meet, he’s felt a lot more relaxed and doesn’t hang back any longer, afraid I might start kissing him because – well, grannies are bristly and smell faintly of wee, don’t they, by their very nature?  And, I hope, he will gather that it is never an incorrect thing to do when meeting someone for the first time.  Although I do look forward to the day he is less self-conscious and gives me a hug, at least.

I’m sounding very formal and, if you have met me, you’ll know that I’m not at all.  However, slight formality, like etiquette, is meant to ease things, not make them more difficult.   And impressions do matter – and do I have an example?  Dear hearts, what I say is normally evidence-based.

When the high school converted to academy status, the Head thought it was a good time to introduce – well, not a dress code as such, but an expectation of suitable dress.  Most teachers already dressed professionally, but some were quite casual.  He reckoned that jackets and ties should be the norm for the men – after all, they are for the pupils.  This caused no controversy, it was appreciated that it sets a good example.  But not all the more senior teachers were quite comfortable.  A few weeks into the term, I bumped into one, who I’d never seen in anything but casual clothes, wearing a dark suit and I remarked on how smart he looked.  I know him reasonably well (back to modes of greeting: outside school, we’d greet each other with a kiss on the cheek), enough to make a moderately personal remark. He said gloomily that he’d bought a new suit, doubling his formal wardrobe.  The next week, I saw him again at a meeting and he came over to talk to me.  He’d always hated wearing a suit, he said, he felt self-conscious and it put a barrier between him and others, or so he felt.  But now he’d taken to wearing one daily, he realised that people who didn’t know him very well saw him differently – that is, he was treated with more respect, listened to more closely, was being treated as a person to be reckoned with – which he certainly is, I’ve got the utmost respect and liking for him.

But if it had taken a clever and able man until his early fifties to realise this, it’s not surprising that the average teenage pupil at a comprehensive school doesn’t get it either.  Which puts them at a disadvantage at interviews, for a start.  Whether it should or not is another matter.  It simply does.  Equality means going up, not down, because people form judgements whether they know they do or not.

1  The visit went well, my October travelling companion was delightful and gave me a delicious lunch.  So that’s all right.

2  I’m sitting here looking at a vase of dead flowers.  I feel rather like Morticia Addams, which I don’t mind at all.  I was brought up on Charles Addams’ cartoons and have always relished the sardonic and macabre.

3  I was woken after a couple of hours by a nightmare last night.  It was dreadful.  I read and played games on my phone for some time to distract myself before trying to sleep again but, although the shocking bit was brief, I can’t forget it.  I shan’t dwell on it though.

4  I had a chat with Elle (a student from Germany who stayed with us for several months over the winter) this evening, which was lovely.  I do miss her, she became like a granddaughter to me.

5  Al and Dilly came over with the boys as usual on a Tuesday while Squiffany is at Brownies in the village hall.  Pugsley does not care for kisses at present, so we shake hands.  Hay came to kiss me goodbye, then saw his brother shake my hand and came forward again, proffering his hand to be shaken too.  Then he kissed me again.  It was adorable.