Dave sent an alert comment this morning, pointing out that the weather was fine and suggesting a half-day of bricklaying. We had some friends visiting this morning, so it was settled that he’d come at 1 o’clock.
The friends, whom we visited a few months ago in North Kent for lunch, came over and benefitted from the flapjacks (English flapjacks) that I’d made, with coffee. We had a very jolly morning, until I had a phone call from the caff at half past twelve, saying that Meals on Wheels had yet to be delivered. I hastened into town, puzzled that the reminder hadn’t come up on my phone – by the time I arrived, I’d realised that the problem was a fifth Thursday. I give everyone on the rota the same day of the same week per month, but there are three extra Tuesdays and Thursdays a year, and the latter are down to me – and I hadn’t marked it down.
You know, if you apologise and say it’s all your own fault, people are so kind and ready to wave it aside. Far better than making excuses, which are quite irritating.
Anyway, I arrived back just before Dave arrived and made tea for him while the Sage got ready to mix the mortar. We went to get more sand and cement – and found the wheelbarrow tyre was flat. I went and fetched the pump – it was fiddly to attach, so the Sage had to be called. It’s been several rainy weeks since the last lot of cement was delivered and there is damp at one end of the bags, but there was some usable stuff. Dave and I were chatting when the Sage called, asking me to reset the switch on the circuit breaker. The cement mixer still didn’t work. I checked the freezer, plugged into the same extension, and that had just gone off – evidently the fuse had blown.
I’ll not take you through the full sequence of events, but it turned out, after much effort, that the lead from the cement mixer is in very poor condition. It’s old and has always been kept outside. After an hour of faffing about, it was agreed that there was no point in carrying on today. We were all entirely good-natured about it – sometimes there’s just nothing to fight against. Fortunately, I’d made a cake as well as the flapjacks, so we went and had tea, having filled Dave’s car with bricks. Just for the fun of it, you know.
The Sage intends to get a new lead tomorrow and we’ll try again on Saturday.
Later this afternoon, I took Squiffany and Pugsley to the park. On the way home, we mostly picked and ate blackberries. I counselled against picking the low ones. “Why?” asked Squiffany, interestedly. I explained that dogs might have piddled on them, which was a satisfactory reply.
I have invited them in for tea tomorrow, and Squiffany hopes to stay the night. Pugsley is a little more doubtful about that, but we’ll see when the time comes.