We wouldn’t have expected to have such a warm day this early in the year, I actually bared flesh outside – I know, darlings, that’s a bit risky at any time. Anyway, I looked at my weather app and we were warmer than nearly all the places in Europe I’ve got marked and just one degree cooler than Corfu, whilst London was apparently a degree warmer. Glorious as it was, it means nothing for next week of course, when it might do anything. That is, however infuriating it can be, what I like about English weather, its unpredictability. I love to avoid the routine.
I took the opportunity to lounge around doing nothing I didn’t want to do. I sowed more seeds and took and planted some cuttings, I scrubbed the outdoor table and chairs, I sat on the grass, I basked in the sun, I read the papers and a book. I poached a new-laid egg for breakfast and ate the ham sandwich that Russell made me for lunch. I’ve prepared a pot roast for dinner, which still has a couple of hours left to cook and I’ve resisted the temptation to eat cake. Last week was Cake Week, it’s interesting to note that I rather crave sugar at present, which obviously makes it something to avoid for a couple of days, until I don’t any more.
Tomorrow, it will be eleven years since my mother died and that thought just sits there, with nowhere in particular to go. If her health had been better, she’d have been happier in her last few years perhaps, and so would we have been. In fact, although terminally ill, she was surprisingly well for her final six months until the last couple of days and she regained her enjoyment of life and hoped it would last longer – what she called her “death sentence” appealed to her sense of the dramatic, but she wanted the doctors to be wrong about it, as they had been for several years when they erroneously assured her there was nothing wrong with her apart from an over-active imagination. Bitter? No, I don’t think I am, but there’s a lot I still can’t think about and doubt I ever will.
And now it’s quarter past six and time for a glass of wine and more reading before dinner. Then I’ll watch Sir B’s DVD and read some more, while I listen to music, unless there’s anything I want to watch on television, which is unlikely. If we didn’t get a free tv licence because Russell is over 75, we’d have given it up by now, I think.