Rose called in today, to help me trim Polly Bantam’s claws. it’s a funny thing, she’s the only one who has ever needed to have her toenails cut. She’s getting an old girl now – Polly, darlings, do keep up. Rose is young and lovely – and hobbles a bit. But she still gets by and quietly enjoys her life. She’s over 7 years old now, as are Scrabble, Jenga and Jabber the Cluck, but she has slowed down the most. Scrabble is sitting hopefully, though I remove the eggs every day because more chicks aren’t going to happen.

I seem to have turned into Russell. The chickens are very tame and come to me, most of them will eat out of my hand and let me pick them up. Thank goodness I rehomed the tortoises, I can do without them as another obligation. I’ve rather turned into Tim too, and wonder what happened to me. I make no complaint, anything that brings me closer to them and does no harm shouldn’t be complained about.

Not a lot happened otherwise, I mostly caught up with laundry. Three loads, which is quite a lot from someone who lives alone. All line-dried by this evening and I’d baked a loaf of bread as well. Yesterday, as well as making the dough to prove overnight, I made a lot of tiny meringues, at Veronica’s request. I think they’d keep fine in tins, but I’ve frozen them to be on the safe side. I’ve promised to make sausage rolls and bread as well, but they’re jobs for next week. Tomorrow, i’ve a visit to the dentist. I had a check-up a couple of weeks ago and he said he didn’t need to see me for a year … two days later, a filling fell out, because OF COURSE IT DID AFTER THE VISIT, NOT BEFORE. It’s right at the back, no hurry for an emergency appointment. I’ll potter in and see if he can fill it or if he’ll shake a heavy head and say I need a crown.

Sorry darlings, someone can’t make the 23rd but can come the next week and everyone else who’s replied so far can manage the other date. So it is, I hope, fixed now for Saturday, 30th July. As ever, let me know if you are coming and, if you don’t already know, I’ll send you directions. You’re welcome to stay and all dietary needs are catered for – I avoid obvious allergens and allow for vegetarians and vegans as a matter of course, but the more I know, the more choice of food you’ll have.

I came up with a date for the blog party: 23rd July. And all the people who usually come said that suits them. But it doesn’t suit a couple of other people – I’m not sure that they could come the next week either. But I’m putting the two dates forward as options. 23rd or 30th July, you’d be most welcome and you’re also welcome to stay over for as long as you like.

I wrote a long post, but I’ve just saved it as a draft. It isn’t ready to be posted, which probably means it won’t be at all. But that leaves me without anything. Time was when I could be amusing about nothing at all, I wonder what happened to that part of me and whether it will ever return. I’d like to be frivolous.

I can still be daft, though. Yesterday, I took it upon myself to order a drinking fountain for the cat. It’s basically a bowl, with a reservoir, so the water runs continuously and it apparently encourages the cat to drink more. We will see. If it doesn’t enthral Eloise, I will have wasted £22, but I hope she will love it. I live to serve the cat, basically.

I’ve also ordered something for myself, but I had to look it up to remember – it’s a book about oil painting. I’m still very anxious to find a new hobby and I fancy a messy one. I suspect it will come to not much, but there’s no harm in hoping. I’ve admitted my ambition to Rose and she’s promised to let me loose in her studio. What the hell. Let’s have fun.

Yesterday, Wink and I went to That London. It was lovely. I love London, it was such a pleasure to be there again. We went to the Raphael exhibition at the National Gallery, meeting my friend L there – she’s an artist and a genuinely world-renowned picture frame expert and she works at the NG – and then we went out for dinner.

It was my fault that we were late, because I briefly led us on to the wrong Tube train. Then it took ages to put us right. But it was okay, we were in time for our timed+halfanhour tickets. Then had a really nice dinner with champagne, though still having to watch the clock for our train home. Next time, off-peak tickets will be the thing.

I had tried 11 times to get the B&B person and she’d tried once to get me, but I had my phone switched off then. I’d given up and had asked Wink to find a hotel, but then Ms B&B phoned back, she’d been away. And it’s fine, we’re booked in for the night before and after V’s party.

Everything feels like hard work at present, but I’m getting there. There’s no real choice, I have to keep plugging on.

I took photos of the garden, but it was the wrong time of day and they aren’t very good. I’ll try again tomorrow.

Someone that Veronica knows has a couple of spare rooms which she uses for bed and breakfast. I’ve been trying to phone her. Having left a message once and rung a few more times, she tried to get me when I couldn’t answer and has never been available again. I wish she’d just send me a text or use the answerphone, she has both my mobile and land lines – if she’s reserved the rooms then we can follow up later and if they’re not available, I’ll look elsewhere. I wish Veronica had never mentioned her, I was quite happy to find somewhere to stay by myself.

Wink and I went to an excellent lecture yesterday and our friend saved seats for us. She always sits in the same area of the theatre and kindly saves seats, but it’s not actually where I prefer to sit. But I can’t really say that and it’s not as if it matters. But I’m getting to the stage in life where I want to do what I want to do. It was different with Tim, we agreed and we compromised if necessary and we were happy just to do things together, both of us were easy-going. I can see myself retreating more into my own company if I don’t watch out, which isn’t really good for me.

I found myself locked out today. I’d been to the hairdresser, to an exhibition at the church in Yagnub and to the greengrocer and pottered back home, only to find that my key wouldn’t turn in the door. Luckily, I knew where Wink was going to be, so went off to a mutual friend’s house and waited for her, to borrow her key, go in via the annexe and then unlock my door from the inside. It was very annoying, but thank goodness there was an alternative way in. I’ve squirted loads of WE40 all over the lock and it’s much better now, but Wink will give me a key to her front door so that we’ve always got options.

I’m further pissed off that the house buyers’ solicitor insists on having a copy of Tim and Viv’s marriage certificate, which will cost £14 and take three weeks to come. They want to be sure that she changed her name legally. That her will, death certificate and probate all make it clear isn’t enough, though it was for everyone else. I want to cry really, but it’s just temper.

So there it is, now I’ve admitted that, I should think of cheerful things. Happy blogging makes a happy Z.

The wisteria hasn’t flowered much for the past few years, either it’s been pruned wrongly or else there’s been a late frost. But I pruned it myself last autumn and we’ve been lucky with the frost – very lucky, they had to go out and light flares to protect the vineyard last week – and it’s going to be lovely in a few more days. The lilac is also out, so it’s all about the purple in the garden at present. And the bluebells are beautiful too. On the little patch of grass outside the door here, there used to be clumps of bluebells but when we had to dig up dead trees, the bulbs spread all over the area and it’s very pretty.

The bantams are very happy that, finally, annual avian flu has retreated and poultry are allowed out again. They’re having a wonderful time in the grass in their pen. I can’t let them be completely free, I just can’t deal with a lot of chicks again for the next few years, cute as they are. But few of these chickens know about complete freedom, so a 20ftx10ft run must seem pretty spacious, as long as it’s outside – their indoor one is twice that size.

I have local asparagus and new-laid eggs for dinner. And if that prospect doesn’t cheer me up, I’m not sure what will.

There’s not really much more to say about the Welsh visit. I didn’t leave the village except to go to the Co-op about four miles away (footpath sign says three miles, so it’ll be longer by road) and, on the last morning, to fill up with petrol. I worked on weeding the patio, cleaning the carpets, cleaning the caravan and making up the beds in the other room and washing the outside of the caravan itself. I was pleased that I remembered to check the gas bottles, so that I found that one had run out (automatically switching to the other) so I was able to let Joseph know that I needed a replacement. When he called round, we had a nice chat. Apart from briefly talking to bar staff and checkout staff, it was the only time I spoke to anyone. I thought I’d have gone for walks, but I was tired after all the work, so only walked down to and along the beach. The people I know on the caravan site weren’t there, which I didn’t mind. I don’t especially need to talk to people, I’m rather too good, if anything, with my own company, so I wasn’t especially lonely, except for Tim.

Then on Thursday, it was an uneventful trip back to Reading, where I found the electricity was off again. Evidently there is a fault, because when there’s a power cut it doesn’t turn back on. I’ve phoned the electrician, who will come and check everything. I already knew there was a ridge tile that had fallen into the gutter, so I got hold of a builder and he quoted less than I was steeled for to replace it, so I accepted that at once and he did the job at the weekend.

The bigger nuisance, once I got the electricity back on, was that the burglar alarm went off and I couldn’t turn it off, nor could the company remotely. I was put down for an emergency call-out, but then it started to sound again (a pre-alarm bleep) and this time I was able to shut it off, so I cancelled the call-out. I have got a service booked, though, as it’s due anyway. I’ve also got a gas boiler annual check booked. I’m going to sell this house in good order, I’m not the woman to do anything else. I haz my pride.

I worried a lot of the night, though, nodded off at around 6.30 and slept until after 9. Scurrying around, I was able to leave within the hour, so arrived with Veronica in time for lunch. So I said, let’s go out for lunch because I’m on holiday, dammit.

It’s been a busy ten days. I’ll try to write it up over the next couple of days, but I was at the caravan from Sunday to Thursday, in Reading on Thursday to Friday morning, then with my friend Veronica in Kent from Friday to Monday. It’s been eventful, for various reasons.

The initial journey went very well. Tim and I used to go down to Reading, stay overnight at the house then get back on the M4 to Wales, over the Severn bridge. I’d decided not to call at Tim’s house on the way there and back, so was able to take a shorter cross-country route from here. Turned out to have some beautiful scenery on the England/Wales border. And I was spared the dreary M25, so that was good too. I arrived at the caravan and opened up, switched on gas, electricity and water and got the boiler going, then unpacked the car. A slight hiccup when the fridge didn’t come on, but I realised that both the electricity and the fridge had been separately turned off – Tim preferred the electricity to be left on over the winter, but that message didn’t quite get through. Still, no harm done. I was tired that evening and just had a sandwich and an early night.

I’d carefully spooned some of Tim’s ashes into a little jar, to take with me. This upset me more than I acknowledged and I’d had a bad evening, the night before I left home. But with the driving on unfamiliar roads to concentrate on, I hadn’t had time to think about that on the journey. The next day, I realised how messy the patio was, not having been weeded at all for a couple of years. So I got to work, clearing the paving and cutting back ivy and brambles that had encroached from the hedge. The strimmer wouldn’t work, unfortunately, so I’ve brought it back to see if I or Wince can persuade it. If not, I’ll take my battery one down instead. There’s an electric mower too, but I didn’t get round to trying that.

After a morning weeding, I was ready for a pint, so went down to the pub and had a prawn baguette while I was about it. I’ve decided to be resolute about sitting and eating on my own, I choose not to be self-conscious. The tide was high, so I went back in the evening, Tim, or a little bit of him, in my pocket. There were still quite a lot of people there on the beach, so I wandered about for a bit, but then climbed the rock anyway, very carefully as I didn’t want to risk a turned ankle. And I sat, with the setting sun on my face, for a while and then tipped the ashes into a dip and took a photo, then clambered down again and went back to the beach. I cried for a few minutes, but found trails from winkles, I think, that were taking evening strolls down to the water, which was so enchanting that I forgot to be upset and watched them instead. And then I had another early night and slept for hours.