Well, I’ve bought a cordless strimmer. Cordless in both senses, as it happens – battery driven and it has plastic cutters rather than a cord. It’s only for the lightest work, but that’s all I want it for. Wince is great in many ways, but he doesn’t see patches of weeds until they’re on the point of seeding and I will just quietly deal with them.
Rose and I were both doing some work in the veg garden this morning, so we asked her to have lunch with us in the garden. Though we live next door and share a drive and a laundry room, we are behaving as two separate households, which we are. Still, with appropriate distancing, we can be sociable and it’s lovely to have a chat and enjoy some company. After the work in the garden yesterday – we finished the lawn – and a lively Zoom chat with the family last night, Tim and I slept wonderfully soundly and didn’t wake until nearly 9 o’clock, which is absurdly late for us.
This afternoon, I did some weeding, whilst listening to the Radio 4 tribute to Tim Brooke-Taylor, which I’d downloaded on Sounds. Giles Coren, in The Times, had an anecdote about him – he’d been friends with his son when they were both children. One day, the boys had a sort of pillow fight, except with books. Mild-mannered Tim stormed into the room, furious with them both. “What would your father say if he knew you’d been throwing books about, eh?” Tim’s son replied that Giles would get a good beating. “Oh. Well, he’d better not find out about it then.” And the incident was over. Giles clearly adored him and it sounded as if everyone who knew him did too.
I only weeded about a tenth of the bed, but I’ve got a barrowful of weeds. It is the worst tenth, though. When I was going past Polly Garter’s coop, I saw that she was sitting out in the open. I checked the eggs and none of them had hatched and she was back on the eggs when I looked again. I have no idea if any chicks will arrive. Foster is also sitting but she’s been off a couple of times. I’ve put food and water within reach of each of them. Yesterday was the earliest the chicks might have hatched but last year, Scrabble kept us waiting nearly a week extra. So we’ll wait and see. I don’t especially want more hens and will give surplus away.
The strimmer will arrive on Monday. I will mow those paths through the grass tomorrow and sow runner beans too. Woo hoo. We make our own excitement around here.