It’s 51 years since Russell and I got married. 50 would have been a milestone, but it wasn’t because he’d already been dead for nearly 9 years. So it’s even less of one now. Yet, I feel melancholy. It’s good that I’m getting ready for a party, because it’s stopped me dwelling on it.

We’ll be a select bunch this time. The Bears have been to every party, bless them. Indigo came to the third I think – I lose track – and he and Lisa, once they’d got together, have not missed since and nor have Zoe and Mike, since their first, which I think was 8 years ago. Rose has, of necessity, come and gone and she’s cried off today at the last minute because of hay fever and general unwellness. My friend Charlotte is expected, but that’s all, as far as I know, as Ro is also unwell. So I’ve overcatered, but that’s nothing unusual. I am sure the chickens will like leftovers. I did have the sense not to prepare too many dishes, once I knew that there wouldn’t be any vegetarians. It’s very tempting, as I love feeding people.

The gazebo canopy won’t arrive until Tuesday and I’ll grumble about it. I paid a lot for next day delivery and being told at 8.30pm that I’m not getting it isn’t good. It’s the couriers rather than the sellers, but that’s not really the point. Although we went from an 8% chance of Saturday rain on Wednesday to a 75% chance now, so eating outside wouldn’t have been likely anyway. Better really to just lay the table indoors. I’m just wondering if I’ll need a fire.

As long as it’s not too cold after that, nor in August. When our Indian and US friends visited last May, they were a lot colder than they expected to be. Hats indoors and log fires and they were still cold. It’s unpredictable, English weather, and always has been.