I realise I’ve taken too much on, but too late to regret that. I’m scooping up things before deadlines all over the place. Luckily, Wink deals with the admin for most of our visits to London, so I don’t have to worry about that.

I’ve got three areas of focus for the next week. One is the choice and booking of lecturers for next year’s arts society (still correctly known as NADFAS, but that’s another matter), one that I’ll simply put as meetings, because there are several of them, all of which on widely different groups and the third is the blog party. That’s the one I am actually looking forward to, of course. But there’s a lot of preparation to be done, one matter being the sanding down of the cloakroom door.

When I got back from St Lucia and water leaked from the bathtub drain into the cloakroom, I belatedly realised that the problem had been building up for a while. I had leaks all over the place and I thought that one of the other matters was the cause of this one. The fact is, the door doesn’t now shut completely. I’ve left it for weeks, hoping it will dry out, but it’s in no hurry. All I can do is sand down the top where it sticks, but it’s quite a big job. There’s only a couple of inches between the top of the door and the ceiling, so I can’t use an electric sander and I have to stand on a step to reach and I’m not very strong in the arm nowadays. I had a good go the other day, it’s getting better but the door still won’t shut. Wince didn’t come today because it was raining, otherwise I’d have asked him. I had to stop when I did, because my hand was tingling. I’ll have another go tomorrow, once I’m home from my next appointment.

Anyway, I don’t suppose anyone who reads this rather than Facebook is likely to come to the blog party but, of course, you’re welcome if you are able to drop in. Open house as always, I just need to know any dietary issues. I’ve lost count of how many years – of course, no party in 2020 because of lockdown, but I can work it out. The first was in 2011, because Tim came to the second and it was the year he was 70. So this must be the 13th?

Everything went well, which is absolutely worthy of note. Trains on time, nice ticket collector, we dodged the forecast rain. We met a very nice couple before lunch – she’s a published poet (not even self-published) and then another woman joined us and it turned out they had a shared knowledge and interest in genetics and cancer, which gave rise to another fascinating conversation. At lunch, I sat next to a man called Roy and we enjoyed chatting to each other.

With half an hour to return to the station, we didn’t quite make it to the next train (there in 28 minutes, which wasn’t good enough) but waited for the next one. We bagged seats at a table and were joined by one woman and then another, and that gave rise to another really interesting chat. W1 recognised W2 as a visitor to a hotel where she’d been assistant manager, and they started to talk. W1 had had a career swerve, about 8 years ago and is now a landscape gardener. She’s currently working on a rooftop project in London and showed us a lot of pictures and we talked about it all the way home – or to Ipswich anyway, which was where they got off.

Ecat hasn’t spoken to me yet. She’s friendly with Wink but gives me the cold shoulder. I’m allowed to feed her and let her out, but there’s no interaction.

I needed to contact a call centre, which I did on WhatsApp and had the most helpful and friendly person I could ever imagine. Her name is Nafisa and she is brilliant. She started to raise a complaint for me, but I said I wasn’t complaining, I just wanted help with the matter, so she sorted it out. She’s going to guide me through the next bit on Thursday evening, but all is well right now. Slightly odd that the direct debit I set up (without her, by this time) had no option but for a set amount, whereas I’d prefer it to be the actual amount of the bill, but I’ll deal with that in due course.

Carrying on with a busy week, I’m going to a lecture tomorrow about the Ravenna mosaics, which I have visited and they’re incredible, but I’ll be happy to see again, albeit on a screen. Then we’re taking Ro out for lunch.

I have to enjoy beautiful weather, whatever else happens, because it usually doesn’t last long. All the same, I’ve done some of the intended admin and some other things that just cropped up. The h on my keyboard is reluctant to work now, so if anything doesn’t make sense without it, apologies for not noticing.

A mishap today turned out to be a blessing after all. My login to an email didn’t work and it turned out (I must have been told, but can’t track it down and won’t bother to search harder) that the address had been changed. Then the unchanged (autocorrect is working so far) password didn’t work. Without much hope, I tried to log in to the keychain that I haven’t managed to find the password for, for months and, to my surprise, the first one I tried was correct. I’m not going to overthink this. I’m in and don’t ave to worry any more. And now am in the email account too. I’d missed that one of the schools in our multi-academy trust has had an Outstanding at Ousted. Well done, that’s wonderful, but it’s time that Ofsted was ditched in its present form. It’s turned into a bully. So has the entire government-driven education system, but this isn’t what my fluffy blog is about.

Wink and I are going to London tomorrow for lunch. Yes, a long way for lunch. But hey. I’ve set the alarm for an hour and a half before we need to leave the ouse, not because I take tat long to get ready but because it takes me quite some time to galvanise myself to get out of bed.

I stopped bothering to insert aitches, renewed apologies.

Pembrokeshire was as magical as ever. I feel closest to Tim there, which is bittersweet, but better than usual this time as I wasn’t on my own as Rose was with me. The weather was unexpectedly marvellous, apart from a rainy Sunday, but I sat outside in the sunshine and went for long walks. However, there had been disaster over the winter because, in exceptionally rainy conditions, there had been several landslips onto the coastal path between the village and the next town of Saundersfoot. It’s going to be a considerable logistic problem to make the steep bank safe, I think, and rumour has it that it’ll cost in the region of £600,000, but it will be done.

Everyone at the caravan site was cheerful in the sunshine and I chatted to more people than I ever have. Tim and Viv used to have a convivial time there, with evening drinks and various get-togethers and Tim still had a good many friends a few years ago but, inevitably, people started to give up their caravans and younger incomers had their own families and friends. It’s not really a park for young adults though as there still is no internet.

We got back on Wednesday and, on Thursday morning, I went over to pick up Perdita from Dora’s house, to look after her for the day and then fetch her brother in the afternoon after school. Ro had a series of business meetings in Chester and Dora was about to go on holiday – since their divorce they have remained on good terms and always help out and swap childcare, but the meetings had cropped up after Dora had booked her holiday. It’s been a fabulous few days with the children and we persuaded Ro to let them stay an extra night.

When I got back from returning them home, Wink and I went to the street market in Yagnub – several times a year, the street is closed for stalls and, in May, the theme is plants. I came back with some greenhouse vegetable plants and bedding plants for tubs. I didn’t need a huge number as I’d got some for Perdita to plant on Thursday. When we’d put our spoils in the car, we went back to the pub for a drink. We’d hoped for lunch but everything on offer was hot and we’d really have liked a salad, even a sandwich. So cold lager had to suffice. We had an entertaining conversation with two women who sat at our table, the ebullient younger one was a hoot. Very chatty, with an infectious laugh, we spent a convivial hour.

I came home and slept most of the afternoon, on and off. I was listening to a radio serial and I had to keep going back to a bit I remembered. I’m getting a bit long in the tooth to be woken up early by cheerful children – who normally stay in bed until after 7 at home but were awake much, much earlier with the excitement of being here. We’d cooked and eaten a pile of pancakes before 8 o’clock on Saturday.

Tomorrow, admin and planting all the goodies I bought today.

The London weekend was really good. We went to three exhibitions, to the theatre to see Simon, had a couple of particularly sumptuous lunches and an equally decadent tea and thoroughly enjoyed being in our lovely city. The hotel was very close to the Business Design Centre in Islington, which was very convenient and we mostly took buses, as it is easy when you’ve got the TFL app to guide you.

Since getting back, spring seems finally to have arrived and today was warm and delightful. Cooler weather and, inevitably, rain forecast for Pembrokeshire, but I expect nothing else there. I’ve been too busy to get ready for the drive tomorrow, but I’ll leave as soon as I can in the morning to pick up Rose on the way. I have, at least, sorted out bedlinen, though was depressed, if not surprised, to be reminded by the caravan notebook that I’d intended to buy new net curtains, as they’re getting somewhat holey and I measured up the last time I was there and instantly forgot when I left.

We had a guest last night, a charming Russian woman (who married an Englishman and has lived in this country for the past 26 years) who gave a very good lecture on Kandinsky this morning. I’m rather keen on him and the other Blue Rider painters and we went to the exhibition about them at Tate Modern on Monday. I’m finding that I want to go to more art galleries, opera and ballet than ever before. I need the uplift, I suppose. We love the live streamings from the ROH and went to Carmen – which was fantastic – tonight. Beforehand, I had a long chat with Rhonda in Atlanta, which is why I haven’t packed but I’d rather talk to my friend than pack and will get up early tomorrow.

So it’ll be another week without blogging as I won’t have internet. For once, I want to watch something on television – or anyway, on Disney +, which I can’t get at the caravan. I’m so sorry that CJ Sansom has died. I knew he’d been ill for quite some time and it is a sad coincidence that he died the very week that the dramatisation of his first Matthew Shardlake book was about to be aired. I’m also sorry that Paul Auster has died, whose books I admire too.

Well, progress is being made. I have had a reply from the Listed Buildings man from the council. He will take the next step and get back to me. The lovely electrician charged me a mere £24, including VAT, for two visits. Next, I’ll contact Jason at the stove place to discuss the fireplace – I’ll certainly need to have the chimney relined, even if the present fire goes back into situ.

Dear old Polly bantam died today. She was 9 years old. She, Scrabble, Canasta (RIP) and Jenna (cockerel, RIP) were the parents or grandparents of the entire flock I have now, apart from Jabba the Cluck, who is also 9. She and Scrabble are still looking to be in good shape, but so was Polly until a couple of days ago. This means that Hope is in the coop on her own at present. I will put Dot, the one with the broken toe, in with her after the weekend. I tried her a few weeks ago, but the feisty Polly bullied her. She’s only just coping in the henhouse, but I can’t do anything about it until I get back from London. Al is holding the fort over the weekend, but it’s not fair to land chicken-coddling on him at such short notice.

I’ve not contacted the painter and decorator yet, but everything else on my to-do list has been done. The house is a bit chaotic still, but there we go. Alex lived here for long enough, he should know what I’m like. With all the problems there have been, it’s not really surprising. The carpet in the cloakroom is still in place, but I’ll take it up when I get back – I’m not sure what the floor underneath is like. Although I still feel very anxious about everything, I’m coping well. I’m good in an emergency and its aftermath, it’s the everyday extras that I find tricky. But I want to get sorted out and I won’t feel better until it all has been.

Oh, chaotic doesn’t even start to describe it. The mouse problem has not gone away after all, but there’s no sign of them except for them eating the waste pipes. The dishwasher one was eaten last Friday night (presumably, as I discovered it on Saturday morning). Fortunately, I’d cleaned the tannin marks off tea mugs before putting them in the dishwashing machine, for which I briefly turned on the kitchen tap. If I hadn’t and had started by turning on the dishwasher, there would have been an awful flood. As it was, I was without use of the sink over the weekend – I kept a bucket in the sink to catch drips from the tap and anything like coffee dregs or cooking water. Kind Jaden came and fixed it at a reduced price on Monday morning. I hate myself for it, but I’ve bought poison baited traps, though I haven’t brought myself to put them down yet. The mice aren’t touching regular mousetraps and I don’t know what to do.

I’ve been having a burst of activity this week and, stressful though anticipation was, having done various things was very encouraging.

However, the falling apart of the house continues. A week or two ago, I realised that the chimney was smoking a little. I couldn’t quite work it out, but there was certainly smoke. I finally twigged that the smoke was coming from where pointing was missing from the brickwork surround, on one side. Since the chimney is lined, this is disconcerting. I had been thinking about the chimney lining this last winter, as a matter of fact. I felt it should be replaced and wondered whether it’s time to put in a woodburner rather than keep the open fire. But if I don’t take out the whole fireplace, which my in-laws put in (and I have never liked) then the full heat of the woodburner won’t be felt. But, as the house is listed, I may need permission and, as woodburners are not popular with Powers That Be at present, I may not get it. I’ve emailed the chap at the council who can advise. If it’s difficult, I can keep the status quo. I’ve got plans A, B and C at present. For now, I’ve put Blu Tack (which isn’t blue any more, it’s a very suitable putty colour) in the gaps.

We went to the local theatre last night, for a live-streamed performance of Swan Lake, from the Royal Opera House. These are done regularly, both opera and ballet. There were a number of people there, mostly women, who don’t normally come, presumably there because of a particular fondness for that ballet. A lot of cut-glass accents and rather loud voices. Unfortunately, the loud voices continued during the intervals. After a few minutes to secure drinks or ice creams (it’s a sensible theatre where you can take your wine glass or coffee cup into the auditorium), there are interviews with backstage staff, which are very interesting. They focussed on costumes mostly, last night, but we could hardly hear the interview with the woman in charge of costumes because of braying voices. They did shut up when the actual costume makers were demonstrating how tutus were made, but started up again when a man who designed the backdrops was speaking. It was annoying. The braying voice last week, at the film on John Singer Sargent, was an elderly man (no older than I am, I daresay) who had something irritating to say about everything. Has it got worse since lockdown? Am I more irritable? I don’t know.

Really, it’s all been chaotic. It turned out that a mouse had eaten the overflow pipe from the bath and, though that hadn’t been used, the downpipe leaked as a result. No more mice, I can’t remember if I mentioned that those electronic things that you plug in and leave are working amazingly, as far as I can tell. No more mouse sounds and all traps ignored. The cat seems unaware of them.

Today, finally, I emptied the bookcase in the cloakroom – the big one, that is. The smaller one is a job that needs to be done. Stephen, who comes on a Thursday to help in the garden, moved it with me. I had to remember how it was put in, 37 years ago, to work out how to get it out again, but I managed it. Then it turned out to be too tall to where I wanted to put it – the books need to go back in – so it’s in the hall. Then I had to go out and am busy all day tomorrow in Norwich, so nothing more will happen until the weekend.

I’m getting to be as busy as I used to be, 15 years ago. I took on two more things today. But there it is. I’m looking after myself better than I used to. So let’s go for the listicle.

1. I’m going to London next weekend with Wink and we’ve got lots of good things planned
2. The week afterwards, I’m going to the caravan with Rose and – wait for it – I’m planning to leave on Thursday, even though I’ve got a meeting on Thursday evening. I’ll just say I can’t make it. This is what I mean when I say I’m looking after myself better.
3. I made a list. A to-do list. This includes contacting the painter and decorator and dumping on him a job that I’d planned to do myself, but haven’t got around to. I want to but, frankly, it ain’t happening. So I’ll delegate.
4. After I get back from the caravan, I’m going to be looking after the youngest grand babies for a couple of days. This is a rare treat and I’m looking forward to it very much.
5. Plates are all still metaphorically spinning. I haven’t dropped any yet and I’m reasonably confident that I’m not going to.
6. The blog party will be on Saturday, 25th May. You are all welcome to come and to stay. Open house, as ever.

This is as good as it’s likely to get, I could have whinged about all the down sides. But that’s not what I blog for.

I’m not sure, now I’m thinking of it, how or why one sleeps like a top, but it doesn’t really matter. I can look it up. Anyway, I did. I dozed off several times during the ballet last night – it was a live streaming from the Royal Opera House, I didn’t visibly (to the dancers, anyway) fall asleep – and then came home and slept again. Now, it’s Wink’s turn. Our friend Lawrie, whose golden wedding party we went to last September, is coming to stay for a couple of nights. His daughter was due to come, early this afternoon, to care for her mother, who has Alzheimer’s and can’t be left, but she was delayed, so he left late and was massively delayed on the M25, poor man. Now 10pm and he hasn’t arrived yet. Wink is catching a few zzzs until he arrives and I’ve come through here to blog.

Otherwise, it’s been quiet at the Zedery. I biked in to buy Wink’s birthday card and then went to the library. I tend to choose randomly, because I’m not paying for it, so might as well hope for a joyous surprise. I’ve a book about appealing places to visit in Britain, a Hunger Games book, a Paul Auster (I thought I’d read all of his, but not ‘Invisible’), ‘Confessions of a Bookseller,’ which is by a chap with a second-hand bookshop, a Lindsay Davis, Roman detective story – I kept up with all of hers for years but have let fiction slide -, a factual book about ancient Rome, another detective story, by Anthony Horowitz and ‘How to Live Like Your Cat,’ translated from French and I guess it’s lightly self-help-ish, but I’ll find out. I can dip in and out of any of them, which is what my frazzled brain wants at present. I’m also part way through reading ‘A Carpet Ride to Khiva’ by the fabulous (I spent a few hours in his company, trust me) Chris Aslan Alexander and an Elly Griffiths (clearly, I like detective stories). I used to read serious stuff and now, mostly, I don’t. I like books to be well written, but I don’t necessarily want to think too much. Maybe that’ll change again, but I’m quite old, so maybe not.

In the meantime, it’s now quarter past ten, so I do hope that Lawrie arrives soon. He’s got a family funeral to go to tomorrow and he hasn’t had any dinner. We’d expected a nice chatty evening together, so it’s a pity.

I’ve been house/teen sitting for Weeza and Phil, but got home yesterday.

Big achievement of the day was emailing my solicitor and explaining the situation. I’ll phone the office by the end of the week to make an appointment to see him. It’ll be expensive, but the matter is big enough to ride with that.

Otherwise, it’s all right. Grandchildren are lovely and great company for the week. We are all, the whole family (14 of us) meeting on Sunday for a family lunch on Wink’s birthday. Wink and I have booked various London jollies and I’m planning a trip to the caravan at the beginning of May, hopefully with Rose.

Our very dear friend Lawrie, the closest we have to a brother, is coming this week (for a family funeral, so he’ll stay here for a couple of nights. His lovely wife has Alzheimer’s, so her daughter (not his biological daughter but they love each other as much as if she is) is coming to stay, so it’s a break for him, knowing Lynn is all right. We went to their golden wedding celebration last September, which was a fabulous celebration. Though she may not remember 5 minutes ago, she could sing all the old songs that their son performed and I sang along with her – not something I’d do with anyone else, now I don’t have Lovely Tim.

The cloakroom door still doesn’t close fully and, when the porch door is shut and the sun is shining, it’s decidedly humid in there. But there doesn’t seem to be an active leak any more, so it’s just the wood drying out and I’ll continue to be patient. Next thing to do is to empty the cloakroom, which has two cupboards and two big bookcases, then choose and order new wallpaper. Then get the papering and painting done and get new carpet. Then address the bathroom. Joy. Not. But it’s just stuff, it’ll be okay.

I feel as if I’m as much on top of things as I can be – and I slept well last night, which can’t be overstated. I biked into town and walked round the village, so I’m not without hope of some Healthy Sleep tonight.