It’s only half past ten, but I’m feeling ready for bed. I always feel that an early night is giving in, though, so I’ll hang on a bit longer.
I’ve always been an evening person, even as a child When I used to share a bedroom with my sister, we both read for a while and then put the light out and I chatted away long after she was desperate to go to sleep. I then slept heavily and found getting up in the morning really difficult. I’m not a lot different now, although better at getting up if I need to.
We’ve started planning for this year’s village festival in the middle of July. It’s called a festival rather than just a fête because of the beer festival which starts in the village hall about midday and goes on until late at night. John at the pub, who runs it, always gets in some good guest beers and I sip gently away at the less alcoholic ones. Well, it’s middle of the afternoon when I go there and I wouldn’t want to raise eyebrows.
I’m only on the committee because they needed someone to take notes. I don’t offer to do much more – I help at the time, of course. We’ve always been remarkably lucky with the weather, I’m not sure what we’d do if it rained, as the beer is in the village hall – not that it takes all of it up, but there’s not room for all the stalls. I did the notes straight away and have emailed them out – it wasn’t really important enough to take priority, considering the other things I have to do, but it was simpler than anything else, so I reckoned I might as well.
Ro rang this evening, wondering if it would be all right to come over on Sunday instead of Saturday. Makes no difference to us. They’ve been invited out on Saturday evening for dinner. He knows I won’t take it as a slight. I’ve told him, there’s been a change of menu and will fillet steak be all right? He thought it would. Oh good, what a relief.