I made the decision, yesterday evening, not to sell Tim’s car. It’s a lovely car, a BMW coupé, that he bought nearly 14 years ago, soon after Viv died. He’s had a few bumps and scratches in it, not since I’ve been with him and I never asked the circumstances. I expect he was a bit careless for a while. He never had an accident, as such and he was a very good driver on the open road. He’d have agreed with me that I was rather better in town and at parking.

He loved the car, it was the nicest he’d ever had. Because of its bodywork – there really is nothing major, just surface scratches – it isn’t going to be worth all that much. When it broke down a few months ago, he had it thoroughly checked and the clutch replaced. I can’t remember why I started to think about it, though it was only a few hours ago, but I felt better for making the decision. I’d already transferred the insurance and now I’ve transferred ownership and paid the tax. I’ve also booked the MOT for the end of the month. Wink will drive me to Reading, I’ll take it to the garage and then I’ll drive it back here. I don’t need to make long term plans as yet, but I’ll probably exchange my own car for a smaller one, for cheap local driving and just use the BMW for longer distances.

Doing all that and a few other bits of admin has given me enough to cope with for the morning. I’ve started to sort out papers into things that are fully dealt with and things that aren’t, but I’ve called a halt for a while. I must do more of something later though, I’ve got a lot to deal with before the auction on Wednesday week.

When people tell me I’m using too much self-control and I should let it go, they don’t realise how draining that would be. I have a lot to do that can’t be delegated. I would if I could. Being told my behaviour isn’t in my best interests, without taking any burden away isn’t exactly helpful. Taking positive action and sorting something out does help. Only for a short time, but I’ll still take that over feeling wretched all the time or falling apart and having to put myself back together again.

I think my gate latch theory is correct. The bullocks are tranquil in their field, anyway.

Today has been long and it’s not 7 in the evening yet. I woke before 3 this morning, which is not unusual and, about an hour later, had to jump out of bed with agonising cramp, the sort that leaves your calf muscle feeling bruised for hours. There’d been no likelihood of sleep anyway, not for a few hours – and when I felt I might doze for an hour or so, Eloise decided she’d like an early breakfast. She wouldn’t be deterred, so I finally went down and got breakfast for both of us. I ate mine in bed. I’d said to the Rector that I’d try to make it to church, for the first time this year (of course, there were only online services for a long time) and he’d changed the service from 9.30 to 9, which isn’t the best time. But I was there and it was nice to see the few people who were there too, except that when someone kind asks how I am, I cry.

I got home to find a phone message from a friend, asking me to ring back but she might be out – as she was, when I tried. I made coffee and contemplated clearing up the disaster area I call the kitchen, when a lovely friend, a different one, called round. So I made more coffee and we chatted. Then Wink called in with a bag of kindling, so I introduced them, and then the phone rang, twice, the second time being the friend who’d phoned before. While I was talking to her, having left Wink and Mimi, my mobile rang. I had to ignore it and phone Indigo Roth back when everyone had left. By this time, it was 1 o’clock and Ronan and family were due soon. I softened some Baron Bigod cheese in the microwave for ten seconds and spread it on bread, apart from Eloise cat’s share.

Busy afternoon with the family, we made and ate scones, fed the chickens, all the usual family stuff, then I scrambled eggs for their tea. And now I’ve fed the cats and I’m tired out. I seem to have spent a lot of time running. I do hope I sleep tonight because I need to crack on with the to-do list tomorrow or else I’ll regret it.

Remembered a couple of bills that I needed to pay and also paid a subscription that technically isn’t due for a few weeks. Must pick up a couple more things of Tim’s that I don’t want to run out. There’s a level of stress that energises you, but this isn’t it.

I was going to bake a potato for my supper, but I don’t think I could eat it. There’s one egg left, laid today, so perfect for poaching. Either I’ll eat it tonight or have it for breakfast tomorrow. The fishmonger will call in the morning and I’ve asked Wink in for supper. I have spinach and that is perfect with fish. I also have a squash, so that’s also good. I will think of a lovely fish dish. I also must make bread in the next few days. I now have three jars of sourdough starter in the fridge and half a dozen slices of bread. I’ve never tried my multi-grain, multi-seed bread with that, but I think I’ll give it a go. It may be heavy, but if it’s a failure the chickens will love it and if not, I will. I’ll probably eat it anyway, I don’t mind bread that’s a bit solid as long as it tastes good.

Actually, I think poached egg with spinach will be perfect tonight. I’ll have a glass of wine first and then cook it. The thought of a lovely, light meal has cheered me. I’m still ruled by food, which is an entirely good thing, because it’s good food that I love.

it’s been rather a day, actually, but all seems to have come good. I have done no admin, but it’s the weekend and I’m off duty until Sunday evening.

I ambled downstairs, having pottered around a bit, soon after 8 o’clock and pottered more in the kitchen, then went outside to feed the cats and let the chickens out. I dropped most of the cat food in seconds, when I found the garden was full of bullocks.

First rule of dealing with animals is, don’t panic. That is, they mustn’t think that you’re panicking. So I fetched a stick for guidance purposes and strolled past them to open the field gate. Then went behind them and suggested they might want to go home. Amazingly five out of the eight thought that was a fair suggestion and went in. I phoned Wink for help and she hurried out. They are calm cattle and, between us (with just one minor hoohah), two more went in: one in one gate, one in the other. The final beast might have posed a problem but Wink is a fast learner and headed him off adeptly, so all were safely gathered in.

But how had they got out? I did a quick search and nothing was an obvious gap. So I phoned the farmer, explained the situation and assured him that I’d get to the root of the escape after breakfast. New-laid egg, poached on toast.

I was a bit anxious and breathless, but went round the 8 acres, bailer twine in my pocket for remedial purposes. I did find a strand of wire that had come adrift, but that wasn’t where they got out. I mended that and kept going. The 13 cattle were calm and friendly, thank goodness – noted that not all of them had got out, so no major breach.

There’s a small gate from Humpy’s Meadow, over a railway sleeper bridge to the garden. The latch of the gate wouldn’t catch. It opened inwards to the field but it was conceivably possible that it could be pulled open. There is no other explanation – also, all the cattle were grouped round the gate when I went to look, so they were probably checking the weak spot. I’ve ordered some bungee cords and have tied the gate up in the meantime. I have said to the Rector that I’ll be in church tomorrow unless I’m chasing cattle again.

Which brings me to the other news of the day. Tim’s memorial service will be in our local church on Saturday, 6th November. More to follow on that but, in short, I’m planning a buffet lunch beforehand, the service in the early afternoon and then back here for tea. At least a couple of spare bedrooms if people would like to stay. Light, warm, celebratory, because my grandchildren will be there and we will ease them through it.

It’s been a difficult day today. First, there was the fridge. We’d been grumbling for a few weeks that the door was reluctant to stay shut, though it did if we insisted. Yesterday, it really wouldn’t. I investigated and found a huge lump of ice, which had grown around two jars that had been touching the back of the fridge.

Yes indeed, I prefer a self-defrosting fridge, but the exact configuration of mostly fridge but a decent freezer compartment was only available in this model. And it’s usually fine but one does have to be careful not to leave something touching the back. Anyway, I simply took out the shelf and piled everything up, or put it in the other fridge overnight. This morning, I took some things through to Wink, put everything from the freezer part into the chest freezer and switched it off.

Though a nuisance, it explained a problem and I just left it while I opened the post. That raised my blood pressure and excited my ire. But the most annoying thing was the bank statement from Tim’s bank. I’d managed, not without difficulty, to get the phone number for the ‘bereavement team.’ I’d explained that I’d been told on the phone that the statement of what was in his accounts on the day of his death would also include his bank statements. It didn’t. Please could I have them for the past year, so I could make sure essential payments were covered?

Asked what dates, I went for 1st August 2020 to 24th September 2021, the latter being the date the account was frozen. I also asked for the same dates for his (same bank) credit card. The fucking moron, sorry, put in the wrong year. I got a bank statement for August and September 2021 and nothing about the credit card. I exploded. Not literally. Poor Wink had come through for coffee and she kindly listened to me rant. Then I went on to the helpline on the website – not expecting to need the phone number again, I hadn’t saved it in my contact list – and got a very unhelpful robot. I wasn’t patient. Eventually, on the third time of ticking the ‘no, this hasn’t helped’ box, I got a real person. So I was polite but explained I had specifically asked for a year and hadn’t got it and hadn’t got the credit card info either and she apologised; not that it was her fault.

Rose called in for lunch. I can’t cope with shops where the assistants know me, as yet, so I went to Jonny’s farm kiosk and bought cheese and bread. Baron Bigod, obvs. After lunch, I had a phone call from one of my lovely clients. Sadly, her husband died in March – it wasn’t unexpected and he was 93, but we had a long and sympathetic chat. She did ask how I was at one point and I told her about Tim – there was a silence and then she sort of blanked it. I didn’t mind. I gave her my best time. But I was tired afterwards and Rose was too and left soon afterwards.

I’ve got stuff from the solicitor to sort out. The easy part is my new will. it’s fine, apart from one name spelt incorrectly. But there was a load of stuff along with the probate stuff – sorry, can’t come up with actual vocabulary – that I’m going to have to get my head around. The Politically Exposed Persons check. What? I’m not sure if being a Member of a Multi-academy Trust counts. And the STEP (Society of Trust and Estate Practitioners) stuff was beyond me today. This either relates to me making a simple will leaving everything to my children or their heirs, or to me being the executor of my husband’s will, which is entirely straightforward. There’s no scope for being politically exposed or needing to relate to a Trust. But I have to read it all and understand it and that’s for another day.

I’ve also got another letter relating to Tim’s investment portfolio, which wants original documents. Everyone else has accepted scanned ones. i’ll write and ask. I’ve only got one copy of his will and our marriage certificate and I’d rather keep them about my person.

Anyway, the fridge didn’t take long, only an hour or so and the lump of ice simply slid off. Then I scooped out the ice from the freezer compartment and wiped the whole thing clean and dry. In the next few days, I’ll clean out the other (larder, frost-free) fridge and all will be lovely. There were no unpleasant, furry surprises because I’ve kept tabs on leftovers for a long time now. If sufficient, they are eaten. If there’s enough for one, it gets frozen for when Tim is away (this should be in the past tense, of course). If it’s not enough for that, it either gets composted or given to the chickens. If leftover vegetables, it gets made into stock or soup. There has been nearly zero food waste at the Zedery for years.

I was a bit odd today. Not at the start, though I overslept, which was unusual. After my usual wakeful time in the night, I slept and woke and looked at my watch. 6 o’clock, I thought it said, but it didn’t feel like 6 so I checked my phone. I’d misread; it was 9 in the morning. But it didn’t matter, I was planning to leave the house at about 11.

I went to the dentist in Norwich, which was fine except for a previously chipped back tooth, which this time he decided he wanted to fill, though it isn’t giving trouble. Still, I can see that it’s not very stable, so I’ve made another appointment. I drove into the city centre. The St Giles roundabout is having a massive makeover, I’m not sure what’s intended. I drove to the car park under the shopping mall and that was where I first felt odd. I wasn’t sure I was in the right lane to go through, all the road signs seemed contradictory. And when I finally moved on – actually, it wasn’t more than 10 seconds’ indecision – the lights must have changed since I’d gone through, because I was hooted at.

There are two parking levels underground and I found a space in the first. I successfully reverse-parked and noted the number of the aisle. I went to the Apple Store and discussed what model I might want with the assistant, but they have no stock of it at present, so we agreed I needed to order it online. I went to Boots and bought some hair accessories (all this masses of hair, sometimes I’ll need to tie it up), socks and tights, plus a sandwich for lunch. I successfully negotiated the self-checkout and returned to the car park.

I was bewildered that the numbers were not as I remembered them. Surely it was 8, not 18? Finally, I realised I must have gone down an extra escalator and went up a level. Yup. They now have ticketless car parking, if you want to use it. Touch your bank card on the pad as you enter and again as you leave. It took me a minute to discover that, on leaving, you touch it to find what you owe and again to actually pay, but I managed better than the driver of the car in the other lane. The attendant was coming out to help as I left.

I decided to go home on the back lanes and turned right at the traffic lights. Then I followed the car in front, almost into Sainsbury’s car park. By this time, I was so unnerved by my doolaliness that I stopped to do all the checks that I hadn’t had a stroke. I hadn’t. I counted backwards from 100 in 7s successfully, so I can’t put it down to incipient dementia. I guess it is a mixture of rarely coming into the city and stress making me slow and confused. I’ve been all right since I arrived home.

I’ve ordered my new phone and a case for it, though the case will arrive tomorrow and the phone will take a month, so sought-after is the iPhone 13 Pro. Yeah, I’ve indulged myself, and there’s no reason why I shouldn’t. My first iPhone was bought to console myself for needing a replacement hip at a relatively young age. My present phone is 5 years old and still very good, but the battery is failing at last and I’d rather give myself a lovely present than dully replace the battery.

Many thanks to lovely blog friends who’ve been so thoughtful. You made me cry, in a good way. Our community is still there, if numbers are depleted nowadays.

Packing up the car took ages. Tim’s drive is at the bottom of the garden, perhaps about 20 metres – I’m guessing – but that’s a lot of carrying when you’re making 20 trips or more. It included a small fridge and my vacuum cleaner. Tim was misguided enough to buy a Dyson and then, when that packed up after a few years, to replace it with another, which has also stopped working. In the same 35 years, my Sebo has done a lot more work, is nicer to use and is still going strong.

I left about 10 o’clock and, with a stop for petrol (I added what I needed rather than filling up as normal), was home soon after 1. My little cat has spent a lot of time on my lap. She looked for Tim and was disappointed that he wasn’t there, poor cat. She’s been quite clingy and needy, though she’s settling down now. I’ll be home for some weeks, which will be good for both of us. She’s sitting on me now and i’m one-hand typing, which is slow.

Because Eloise was sitting on me, i didn’t do all I wanted to this afternoon. But there’s always another day. Tomorrow, the dentist. Then, as I’m in Norwich already, I’m minded to go and buy another phone. Only if I feel I can go and deal with people though. I might just slink home, if not.

Tim’s funeral took place yesterday. I’d planned it carefully and it went as planned, so that’s a plus. I’d listened to so much music and read what was going to be said so many times that I couldn’t really evaluate for myself how it came over, but I think it was good. Several people had written pieces about Tim, as had I, rather than a chronological life story and that went well with the informal service I thought would suit him.

I spent the weekend cooking. Paul phoned on Saturday, as I mentioned, to offer to take bottles to the bottle bank, but I explained that I had to go shopping anyway. But I’d love to see him and Carolyn, so could they come for dinner? Luckily before I went shopping, Fiona got in touch, so I asked her and Pete to come too. Fiona doesn’t eat meat, so that necessitated a change in menu.

I’d been shopping the day before, in fact, and made a pig’s ear of payment. I went to Waitrose, bought lots of ingredients and also a couple of chickens and some vegetables for Sunday night. When it came to pay, I used Tim’s loyalty card, which I took several goes to make work, then put in my debit card. It rejected it. It didn’t get as far as putting a PIN in, it just said to take it out. After the second time, the cashier looked and said that I was putting it in the wrong way. Confusingly, I’d put it in the right way for every other payment machine but Waitrose’s, but I switched it round – it refused it. I tried with a card from a different bank, but the machine was thoroughly out of sorts by then and wouldn’t accept it. I got out a third card from a third bank – but by this time, there were two other assistants there and they finally persuaded the first card to play ball. Meanwhile, i was apologising profusely to the charming woman who was waiting to have her shopping scanned.

I felt that I’d never dare show my face again, but then when I had to shop for another dinner, I went back. And this time, I took great care and it was all okay. I made a fish pie with potato and sweet potato mash on top, a layer of tomatoes then fish plus sauce, then spinach below the mash. And courgettes to accompany. I made a chicken casserole to serve on Sunday night, making stock with the carcases, much of which is now in the freezer. I couldn’t sleep at all on Saturday night so took the opportunity to write a to-do list, which calmed me somewhat.

It was lovely to see Tim’s family on Sunday. And we had a good evening. Much wine has been drunk every day. There have been two additional trips to the bottle bank – I’d taken a dozen champagne bottles and thought half of them would be drunk after Tim’s funeral. Ten were. Plus beer and soft drinks. Tim would have loved it.

I’d been undecided whether I’d drive home tonight or tomorrow, but I decided to have a quiet day and night, and I’ve made the right choice. Alan and Linda left this morning, Indigo Roth phoned just as they were saying goodbye, then Clare next door called in just as we were finishing. I haven’t done a lot since, though I’ve started to pack the car. I’ve still got at least an hour’s work in the morning but I have stopped for the night, eaten leftovers and had a couple of glasses of white Bordeaux. It’s not 9 o’clock yet, but I think a bath and an early night are on the cards.

Today, I’ve felt calmer, not less emotional but more measured. I want, in the long run, to retain appreciation of what we had and put the misery of it not being for as long as we hoped, and of missing him, in its place, which is not to be ignored or unrecognised, but to be channelled into loving memories. This will take a long time and never work completely. I know that ‘getting over’ something never happens. It’s nearly 52 years since my father died and I can still see him in his coffin and I’ve never ‘got over’ his death. Nor anyone since, they’re all there in my mind. But frankly, having a (sorry about all the inverted commas, they’re not really my thing normally) ‘good cry’ does nothing for me. Occasionally bound to happen but crying for more than a few moments just gives me a headache and solves nothing. It’s safer to stay on a level, whatever level that is, than to dip too low. It’s so hard to rise from the depths, as Virgil put it so neatly.

So, home tomorrow and then I’ll organise Tim’s church memorial service in early November. It will be simple and I hope to aim for warmth and loving memories rather than anything heavy, because at least some of my grandchildren will be there. And then, food and wine to follow.

I should get out Tim’s laptop. Typing would be easier than on my phone. I can’t quite be bothered, though.

I’m back in Reading, getting ready for Tim’s funeral on Monday. I know it’s true but I don’t believe it. Alone here in his house, I still haven’t accepted it. I’ve seen him, I have said goodbye, i understand but I still don’t believe it. It will be all the harder when it dawns on me that it’s all true, forever. I miss him too much already.

I had a long chat with a friend tonight and I’ve invited him and his wife for dinner tomorrow. There will be 8 of us on Sunday evening as well. Cooking will help to ground me, whatever that means. I’ve bought huge quantities of food for the buffet lunch on Monday. Knowing that people will have come a long way and will be hungry by 2 o’clock has encouraged my natural inclination to over-cater. This is not a bad thing, it helps me. I heated a takeaway fish curry in the microwave for myself tonight, which makes it clear that, at present, it’s good for me to cook for there because I can’t bother much for myself.