Well, what a fun morning. I staggered along to the churchyard at nine o’clock, minus contact lenses to give my overstretched eyes a break. I had, briefly, considered going without make-up too, as mucky work was to be done, but a glance in the mirror brought me to my senses. I compromised, leaving off lipstick.
On the way, I noticed that the drain at the end of the drive was blocked by grass. When I cleared that, I discovered that the whole drain was filled with earth. Possibly decomposed leaf mould, which would be wonderful compost, it is sure that winter rain would not be getting away in a hurry. I removed the drain cover and forked some loose, which I removed by hand, but it quickly became apparent that this was a job for another, less busy, day.
Actually, I had all the time in the world. I did a few odd jobs while I was waiting for Fellow Dave. At half past nine, I rang him. he had forgotten, but would come along. I chatted to the church administrator and she made me coffee. I did a couple more little jobs. Brian turned up, and we worried about the problem with the drains. I am a good and sympathetic worrier, but made it clear that drains are Men’s Work and beyond my capabilities. I recommended getting in a builder and implied that a Man should ring him because then they could talk Men’s Talk.
At half past ten, the Fellow arrived, apologetically. His motorbike had had to have (I stared at that, but it is more grammatical than it looks, I think) a new battery fitted and he had not had breakfast when I rang. I was sweet and cheerful – I am, really, people like me for it.
We went to get the ladders from the church gallery. I had not done this in advance as I am notoriously clumsy and also quite little and so long ladders can fall from my nerveless grasp and do unfortunate things, such as break bits that Cromwell’s men accidentally left undamaged off the font (which they did knock the faces off, of course). We took the ladders outside, put them together and erected them, and I offered to mount them.
Happily, the Fellow said he would climb to the church roof. This was not patronising of him, as he is not like that, but it is true that he has a better height and reach than me and also would have felt a bit of a girly if he had hesitated on the ground while I strode up the ladders. I did, however, lend him my rubber gloves for getting the mucky bits out of the guttering.
We did a splendid job and were finished by twelve-fifteen. I came home and heated up the remains of the steak-and-kidney pie, a baked potato and a tomato. With a cup of elderflower and rose tisane (yeah, I know, no hope for me), a glass of sherry, a chocolate biscuit and an apple in addition, I was only able to manage a cup of black coffee and a single sticky bun with pink icing at the governors’ meeting in the afternoon.
My job this evening is to make holly wreaths as Yagnub has a special Shopping Evening tomorrow and the shop needs to show its Yuletide Wares.
I need to start now. Have a lovely evening, or, if you read this tomorrow, I hope you had one.