Up even later this morning. I feel as if it’s Christmas already, with all this self-indulgent behaviour. Terribly naughty. The Sage took me out to lunch, to the local caff. He goes there regularly, and takes me about once a year.
A lot of people are rethinking their travel plans. The snowy weather seems to sweep up and down the country – at present it’s in the South and the West Country. I spoke to Wink last night, she’s due to come here on Sunday until Tuesday (yes, it’s a long way to come for a short time, but she’s seeing Bod and Bodsmum over Christmas and working on Wednesday) but this is looking doubtful. It’s not worth it for a difficult journey. Apparently she went a bit overboard on the present front this year so can’t possibly come by train – besides, that would be a pretty dire journey, too.
The daft bantams went to roost in trees yesterday afternoon, and by the time the Sage went out to shut them up, it was too late to do anything about it. They all huddled in early this afternoon, he went out and gave them the pastry from our lunchtime steak pie and then shut the door on them. They’re all fine and quite cheerful. There are plenty of places for them to scratch about out of the way of the frost, and they all keep together and find any sunshine they can to bask in, although there has been none of that today. No more snow, although it’s forecast for later in the week, from Wednesday onwards. Not having to go far, I can be relaxed about it, but there’s not a lot of choice really. A friend who is anxious whether her parents can make it up from Somerset has already had several invitations – she really wants to see them of course, but if it can’t happen, she won’t be alone and I bet they won’t be either.
The Sage and I solemnly exchanged cheques for each other’s Christmas present, though he wouldn’t let me pay full whack for his. I showed him my bank statement to demonstrate that I could pay, but he wouldn’t take it. And I went and bought as many veggies as could conveniently keep fresh, so that it’ll be less to do later in the week. “£20” said Tim. I fixed him with a steely look. “And?” “Ninety-one pence,” he admitted. I gave him the extra pound. I’m not taking discounts from him, dear chap. He gave me 10p back with a flickering glance, so I laughed and accepted it. It seems that I do take discounts. He assures me that he has the shop under full control, I think he should let me come in. I’ve said, I’ll be in every morning at the end of the week to see how it’s going. I know how hard the work is, and he’ll be on his knees by the end of it. And customers will only wait so long, it’s important to keep the shelves stocked all the time – well, he knows it too, his brother is going to help. I explained that I am a motherly control freak and I can’t help it. Funnily enough, I don’t do this sort of thing with my own children, I’m more afraid of being overbearing than anything, and I trust that they will ask if they want me. Well, I don’t think I do. But I probably can’t help it.
It’s all Weeza’s fault. I used to be very mild and unassuming, until she once called me “strong”. Startled, because I had no idea, I’ve played up to it since. I realised eventually that a mixture of pride and embarrassment stopped me from ever asking for help, so it was assumed I didn’t need it. I wasn’t strong so much as tenacious. But now, yes. No pride left, so I accept all the help offered and even ask for it, but I’m afraid that strength has turned to bossiness. But I’ll take no for an answer.