I’ve got the heating on, this isn’t a cliffhanger. But I need to complain, all the same. So, if I do it here, I won’t need to do it anywhere else (except possibly to the plumber, whose fault it isn’t).

He’d said, check the manual to remind myself how to put more water in the system. I did – my sister had, efficiently, got it to hand. It acknowledged that the system sometimes needed filling. It said, ” ask a competent person where the filling cock is located.” There was a lot more it said, including “purge all radiators” – who says purge, when bleed is the normal word? But what it didn’t do, at any point in the brochure, was point to the actual taps that needed to be turned, or how to know when the system had been refilled enough.

I’d already checked with the plumber, who’d assumed there would be adequate instructions in the manual, as he was absolutely reasonable to assume. I’m a competent person, as long as I know what to do. Luckily, I remembered. I’d just wanted reassurance that I was planning to do the right thing. The sodding manual being useless, I had to wing it.

There are two taps underneath the boiler. Both are marked ‘close.’ You open the left one, press the button with a picture of a flame on it and it shows the bar. Pressure should be between 1 and 2. Open the right one a bit, there will be a hissing sound that indicates it’s filling. When it’s about halfway between 1 and 2, stop and, with luck, the system will come on again. Possibly, I pressed the button with a flame again, I was pressing All The Sodding Buttons. If it shows a fault again, repeat. At the end, make sure both the taps are set to ‘close.’ There. That wasn’t so hard, was it? So why the actual fucking fuck didn’t the manual explain?

If you accidentally add too much, you need to let some pressure out of a radiator. If any radiator has a cold spot, bleed the radiators. You might then have to top up the pressure again. I haven’t done any of this, I’ll check in the morning if it’s necessary. Obviously, this clarity isn’t in the (actual fuckity fuck) manual.

So that this isn’t one long rant and, to reward you if you’ve got this far, my good deed for the day (apart from enabling my sister to live in her own home) was to take my friend Lilian, who’s 95 and lives alone, to the supermarket. Two hours for me, it was nothing compared to her pleasure. She has helpful neighbours who are happy to shop for her, but she’s considerately conscious of the bother to them and, also, it’s a pleasure to choose your own trolleyful. Anyway, I’d asked Wink to feed the cats this afternoon as it would be dusk when I got home. But there was enough light to see a lovely, full-grown hare in the garden. In the 37 years I’ve lived here, I’ve never seen a hare on the gravel drive by the house and it was a joy.

I googled header tank and, as there no longer is a hot water tank, evidently that’s not the problem. I texted the plumber and asked. It’s that the pressure needs regulating, which is straightforward, though getting up into the attic to do so isn’t, so I haven’t done it yet. What I said about accessibility still stands. Ugh.

Wink and I had smoked salmon and salad tonight, including nearly the last of the tomatoes from the greenhouse, having been out for Sunday lunch with Weeza and family. It’s a very nice restaurant, just this side of Norwich, by the River Yare and we went there a few weeks ago. Then, they were very busy and we got a 2.15 booking, which was really a step too far for them. It was well over an hour after our order was taken that our food arrived. One learns. We booked for 12 noon – of course, they weren’t nearly so busy anyway, but the food was prompt and well cooked and we had a relaxed 2 or more hours, not waiting for food but eating and chatting. No washing up, not too far to travel. I know restaurant prices have gone up, but I don’t begrudge it as it’s really hard work and, if the food is good quality, it’s worth it.

After a couple of frosty days, it’s bleakly raining. The chickens are spending most of their time hanging around in the smart, warm henhouse. No wonder they’re not laying, they don’t get enough daylight. Dear little Hope, out in the coop with Polly, still lays three or four eggs a week and Wink’s Thelma and Louise are laying too, in their Eggloo (I suspect I spelt that wrong). I’m sorry for Hope and Polly though, in their little coop and I’ve been trying to think of a way to give them better accommodation that’s still ratproof. I think I’m going to have to bring them indoors into the porch – in the coop, I can’t have them skipping indoors and out, I don’t think …. or can I? We haven’t got avian flu restrictions yet, many weeks after they were imposed last year. Anyway, if I lock my electric bike away in the barn – frankly, I’m not going to use it much until the spring – there will be room for the coop and they’ll be warm and dry there. I’ve put a tarp over the sleeping part and a bit over the outside area, so they aren’t going to catch a chill, but they look a bit sad. They’d rather have grass to scratch on, of course.

My latest house guest is my sister. Her boiler stopped working yesterday, so I trailed up into her attic this morning. I’ll break off for a short rant.

Some 17 years ago, a new boiler was needed for the annexe, where Al, Dilly and Squiffany then lived, with Pugsley on the way. The plumber had the bright idea of putting the new boiler in the loft, as it would free up room in the kitchen. Al and the (not so sagacious) Sage agreed and – I didn’t discover this for 15 years – Dilly’s protests were ignored. Unsurprisingly, she hated it. It was before the boiler could be altered by remote control, so if she wanted to adjust the timing or it needed any attention, she had to wait until Al was at home. I had no idea and said, if I’d known at the time, I’d have put my foot down.

I won’t go into details about more recent problems, but at least it’s not the same plumber. Anyway, when I went up into the loft this morning, it turned out that the problem is that the header tank needs more water. There was a chair up there, which I stood on and the tank was still above my head. Wink fetched a pair of steps and I carried them up – still far too high.

I went down to the workshop for a ladder and all the ones in the small workshop were too heavy. So I went to the big workshop, for half the extending aluminium ladder. The door was locked. I don’t normally lock it. I fetched the keys – there are four keys for four garages/workshops. The lock was frozen. I phoned Wince, no reply.

I said to Wink, come and stay with me until it’s sorted out. I hate to admit it, but I’m too short and too puny and too old for this. It needs a man.

I’m really pissed off that people who design and install systems are tall, strong men and it never enters their head that other people are not. Mirrors that are too high to see more than the top of your head, peepholes in front doors that are way over the head of elderly people with osteoporosis, windows that are so high and so awkwardly placed that the resident can’t ever clean them.

Anyway, Wink is very welcome and it’s lovely having her to stay.

I’m reminding myself – that is, my behaviour is reminding me – of the winter after Russell died, when I cooked obsessively, even though I couldn’t eat much. I eat more now than I did then – I was too thin and now I’m too fat – but it’s the same need. I’m channeling it (should there be two lls in channelling? I don’t get the red line in either, so maybe it doesn’t matter) into making Christmas presents for the family, so I won’t say more, but it will be fabulously delicious (in case any of my children is reading this).

I made a list. When I do that, I’m either determined or anxious about forgetting things, but it’s the former this time. I’ve even ticked off half the items (15, but I haven’t finished one of them). That’s since Friday. The Z is doing good (sorry, BW).

There are things I want to do and I keep planning, but I don’t decide on any of them. Russell and I were so good for each other about that sort of thing. We encouraged each other in our wacky plans, but somehow, only the doable ones happened. The Wall, for example. There was a privet hedge and, over a few years, it gradually died and we didn’t know why. Possibly simply drought, because the end next to the outdoor tap didn’t die, but it happened steadily from one end, which was odd. We didn’t feel able to replace it with another hedge, in case there was a disease and I said it would be a bit dull to have a fence, so how about a wall? The Sage was enthusiastic, so I then said, wouldn’t it be fun to build it ourselves? I mean, how daft an idea. But it happened. Some of my other ‘ooh, wouldn’t it be fun?’ suggestions didn’t ever happen and nor did some of his. My suggestion of having a third baby took several years to turn into Russell’s idea. But now, I have no one to bounce ideas off and for those ideas to turn into something workable. So I don’t do anything, which isn’t any fun at all.

I spent the morning cooking – vegetables, mostly. I soaked some lima beans yesterday and have made them into a casserole, I made mushroom soup and a batch of minestrone. Of course, it’s all far more than I can eat, so most of it will go into the freezer. I’ll be glad of it all, eventually. This afternoon, I was planning to do the ironing, but I forgot. Now 4.30, it seems a bit late to start…

My guest left a week ago, all is well domestically with her and partner now and the two of them are working out how things won’t go wrong again. Space to work things out was good, as there was goodwill on both sides, underneath the difficulties. The house feels bigger than ever now.

I often wonder if I’ll ever move from here. It is absurdly big, yet I like having lots of rooms and I also like having big rooms and space outside. Our last house was large, but my grand piano was in an octagonal bay window and I didn’t realise for a few years that I could be heard playing it from the road. No one can hear me now – except Wink, of course. I don’t have the grand any more, there wasn’t anywhere here for it to go, sadly. I have my mother’s pianola, which is also a good piano. I rarely play though, it’s wasted on me. I would love to think that I’ll start playing music again next year. Maybe. This sudden burst of cooking may mean I’m starting to recover my old Z again. One can always hope.

Both a verb and a noun.

Each of my families loves my chilli relish – that is, not everyone in each offspring’s family, but some of them – and so I make a couple of batches in the autumn. It’s a labour of love, but worth it as it’s so very good. It should be made with jalapeños but one can’t buy them by the kilo and I only grew one plant this year, so the long red chillies you can get at the greengrocer are a decent substitute, being spicy but not blastingly hot.

I made the mistake of mentioning it on Facebook, whereupon friends asked for some too. I’ve made 10 jars, from 2 kilos of peppers, plus onion and carrot – not sure if that’ll be enough. I can make them any time of the year but the autumn harvested chillies are the best. While I was surprisingly enthusiastic, I also made a couple of batches of spicy tomato relish – as it’s past tomato season, I added some purée too and, for the second batch, used 600g fresh tomatoes plus a tin. I must check each against the other, to see how well that worked. If it’s good with a tin of tomatoes, it would be a doddle to make in the winter.

I also – really surprised myself here – bought some medlars. They aren’t overripe yet – bletted is the term for virtually rotten medlars, by which time they’re not too astringent to eat. I think a mixture of ripe and less ripe is best for jelly. It’s not as flavoursome as quince, but goes well with various meats, especially poultry and game.

I didn’t think, apart from the chilli relish, which is a given, that I’d bother with preserves any more. Tim and I enjoyed making them from various vegetables and fruits in their season and I haven’t had the heart to do it since he died. I haven’t used up all I made previously, in any case. But I do miss feeling cheerful. I’m pleased that I felt so much enthusiasm.

I’m trying to plan a holiday for the end of winter or early spring – February/March is probably going to be the time I’m least busy for a couple of weeks. I can do anything I want, which is why it’s so hard to decide what I do want. I do need to renew my passport, however, or I won’t be going anywhere – not at that time of the year, anyway. I’d like to be a bit warmer than in Britain.

I am still here. but I’m not especially fond of blogging from my phone and I haven’t been at the computer much, except for genuine work. I’ve got a fairly free week, in terms of appointments, however, so I hope I’ll blog a bit more. I miss it when I don’t, but not enough to actually do it…

I have had a friend staying for the last six weeks. She and her partner had some domestic issues and it was felt that giving each other some space would be more helpful than anything. This has worked and she has moved back home. There’s plenty of room here and we’re good friends, so happy to spend time together, but also fine with one or the other wanting some time alone. There was no question of a longterm arrangement, this isn’t a convenient house to split and, without Tim – and if Russell hadn’t died nine years ago, there would have been no Tim – I only want to live alone. For as long as I could help, I was glad to. But it didn’t lead to blogging.

Now, all is quiet at the Zedery. Wink invited me through for dinner and, as I said, I’ve got a nearly empty diary, so I have turning-out plans, which she’s sweetly offered to help with. I sorted out the study for the friend to have as a sitting room, which has left the surplus from the study in the hall. I deliberately didn’t put it anywhere less obvious, so that I’ll be forced to deal with it.

My daughter Weeza and family have invited us for Christmas (apologies if it’s too early to use the C word) so I can skip the need for a tree and so on. I’ll do a nice arrangement of evergreens, with a few suitable flowers, for the drawing room mantelpiece and the dining table, but otherwise it’ll be business as usual.

I’ve been thinking about the music, that I mentioned in my last post. Maybe it’ll be something to elaborate upon. I always enjoy a spot of reminiscing.

When driving home from Norwich the other day, I surprised a lovely roe deer, who ran across the road in front of me – well in front luckily, no danger of hitting her. I was less pleased by the muntjac that skittered away when I went to feed the barn cats yesterday. And yet, there’s no real difference, except that one is so bold as to come and eat my flowers and the other is wild and timid. And a British native too, though I don’t want to consider myself racist. Does that count, with native plants and animals?

I came down with a really filthy cold, my first since 2019 (I sailed through the Covid years) and was poleaxed for a couple of days. I had to cancel a lot of things, sadly – two theatre trips and a visit to London amongst them. The London visit should be tomorrow but, though I feel completely well again, my sister isn’t (she has enough sinus problems at the best of times, as well as asthma) and I wouldn’t really want to push myself to anything too tiring as yet. But I did go to a fabulous live-streamed (from the Royal Opera House) performance of Don Quixote at the local theatre and came home recommending to Wink, who didn’t feel up to it, that she see if she can watch it online. The leading roles (not Don Q himself, the young couple) were played by Mayara Magri and Matthew Ball, a couple themselves in real life. They were dazzlingly superb in demanding performances. Other dancers have also played the parts during the six-week run, which isn’t surprising as it would be a huge strain to dance, night after night. If you’ve been to see it, I envy you and, if you can catch it online (it is possible to subscribe but there’s a free 14 day trial) then it’s worth watching.

It made me think of other memorable performances and musical revelations in my life and I’m happy to realise that I appreciated so many of them. I’d like to recall them, set them down so that they’re renewed in my mind. Sometimes, a single performance (not necessarily live) has opened my ears to something new altogether and I feel very lucky to have recognised that at the time, on those occasions.

I went with a friend, who lives in Yagnub. She would usually walk to the theatre and I’d drive her half a mile home, but now that it’s dark early, I pick her up too. She’s in her late 80s and was a little daunted to find that, though the performance itself was a couple of hours long, there were two 25 minute intervals, which made it a latish finish. So I suggested that we could, if she liked, leave after the second act and that’s what we did. I dropped her off, went back and parked again and was in plenty of time for the third act. I was enjoying it far too much to miss.

If only builders would turn up – that’s the trouble with knowing them personally and also not being one to nag. People expect to be nagged and it’s not my way. But I hope no rain is coming in at present.

The auction went well, I thoroughly enjoyed it and am still attempting to negotiate the sale of a couple more pieces. If I can, that will be great. But we’ll see – 80% of lots sold and I’m happy with that. One client sent me a cheque for the pieces he hoped to buy – my face fell as he assumed he’d buy them all at his maximum price and that’s what he put. Of course, it was not going to happen so neatly, nor had he added anything for postage – but, in the event, he only bought one piece, though it’s a nice one, so he owes me over £3,000 less than the cheque was made out for.

Sadly, I put away the cheque very safely and I’ve no idea where. I’ve looked where I thought it was and found the empty envelope. i’ve also found the card on which he wrote the bids. Why on earth I didn’t keep them together, I don’t remember. Of course, he blithely asked for his cheque back so he could tear it up and write another one. I’m going to have to phone (he must be in his 90s and not online) and confess. Ho hum. I really need a PA. I do have something of an excuse for being absent-minded, I was unexpectedly taken up, being helpful with a friend’s disarrayed life, while Wink was away – I will be free to talk about that eventually, but not yet. It was very distracting, though not at all a burden – and the reason I was turning out the study.

We had a bonfire party last Saturday, as that suited the family better than this weekend. I’d only picked up Wink from Norwich (home from India) that afternoon, so she felt somewhat spaced out after a very long journey. But it went very well, with 15 of us – some extended family but minus Weeza and co, who were having a few days away for half term. I’d taken them (Weeza etc) out for lunch a couple of Sundays earlier, as I wouldn’t have seen them for a couple of months otherwise.

Squiffany came along on Saturday, which was really great as I hadn’t seen her since early September, before she started university. She’s having a good time – a very good social life, anyway, I didn’t ask about her maths course, because I didn’t intend to be a boring grandmother and I’m most pleased that she’s happy, making friends and feeling at home. Everyone in the hall of residence gets on well and they’re already looking for two houses to share next year – they’d like to be quite close, one for boys and one for girls (the girls say the boys are too untidy….) and remain a social group. Though it’s early days, of course and if anyone changes their mind, there will be plenty of time to get a replacement, I’m sure. She’s been too busy to go home and visit her parents, anyway.

I have a great wish to watch old films at present, because I went to a talk on the subject today, which was very enjoyable. Before I start searching for them, I’ll go and feed the cats, because it’s not raining much at present. There’s even some blue sky.

Apart from the two pieces I’m still waiting to hear from a potential buyer about and two that haven’t yet been paid for (one with the missing but safe cheque), all I have to do is the income and expenses sheet and then that’s that for a few years. Though I already have some pieces booked in for next October, so am toying with the radical idea of starting the spreadsheet now, to get ahead. I may yet come to my senses, though.

The river rose further overnight. When I went to feed the cats yesterday afternoon, the beck was high but contained, but it had flooded by the morning. The bridge hasn’t quite gone floatsies (as my mile and a half away neighbour Louis de Bernieres puts it) but Christophe, who slipped from it a week ago, would certainly have been well wetted today.

I’d arranged to go and see my friend Jan, who lives in Mendham (Alfred Munnings country) this morning but I wasn’t sure if I’d get through. I turned back on the first road I tried – I wasn’t sure how deep the water was, but I wasn’t going to risk it, especially in the electric car. The BMW wouldn’t have been better, it rides very low. The high road was okay though. The Waveney couldn’t be distinguished from the surrounding fields, there was a great big lake, but the road rose above it. Jan was in a nursing home for a long time, having just gone for respite care and now she has a live-in carer as she can’t walk any more. She’s 91, her mind is absolutely sharp and agile, but her body is failing her.

I’m turning out my study, which is not well timed, but necessary. I feel harassed, but it’ll all get done. My poor cleaners will be asked to blitz it and the further dining room, tomorrow. I’d rather have those two rooms really well cleaned than anything else – they tend to give a quick whizz through the whole house, but in-depth cleaning is absolutely needed. I’d like to wash the carpet, but that will have to wait.