Today, I just caught up with some necessaries. We put the borrowed tables and chairs into the car – well, cars, Tim took some of the chairs – and returned them to the church (the bier shed, in fact). I checked and took photos of the overgrown trees, which aren’t, along the lane, because the council had told me that the bin lorry couldn’t get past. I’ve written an utterly charming letter, assuring them that the hedge and trees will be cut back in the autumn once nesting and fruiting season is over, but in the meantime I’ll ensure that the trees on the other side of the road are trimmed. And then I wrote to the churchwarden offering to sort that out. I suspect it’s one problem branch. I took photos and sent them.

The new milkman left the milk in the wrong place, so didn’t spot the direct debit form I’d left out. I didn’t say it was the wrong place but emailed to send the dddetails. So that was all right. I settled back, thinking I’d done all the admin. No I hadn’t, I realised. I needed to make a phone call.

My phone phobia has never gone away. I panicked and pretended it wasn’t going to need to happen. But it did need to happen, things would only get worse if I left it. So I steeled myself – and had a very pleasant chat with a nice woman called Megan (I asked: I do ask people’s names nowadays and use them in a friendly way. I’m getting better, old as I am) and sorted out everything, did follow-up emails and all. The pandemic has done nothing for my people skillz. I know I’m not alone in preferring email and texting etc to speaking to people, but it’s still embarrassing.

All the same, owning up to it is a help. Tim already knew about my phone problem, but I told him (possibly I’ve told him before but he didn’t say) that, in years gone by, if we were going to ask people over, I made Russell make the phone calls. The reason went beyond a disinclination to pick up the phone. I thought people would want to come if he asked them and not want to if I did. I had no reason to believe that, except that everyone liked him. There it is, I’m over it. Choosing to believe I’m likeable is still the bravest and hardest thing I do and accepting some people don’t much like me and that’s all right is the next bravest. Approximately.

The porch was wonderfully clear and empty, apart from a freezer and a small fridge. We wanted to keep it that way, so I suggested bringing in a table, as well as the nice teak bench. It’s a lovely little room and we’re going to use it regularly for coffee and lunch, when it’s either too hot or not quite warm enough to eat outside, but bright enough to want to. My parents-in-law used it for morning coffee and afternoon tea, but then they had a back porch too, for wellies and suchlike and I don’t, because the space was incorporated into the study. It’s too easy to use it as a dumping ground and I need to resist that temptation.

Tomorrow, hmm. I don’t have much planned. I need to deliver back the bier shed keys to the churchwarden and I will pick up my vineyard wine club’s annual crate, which is included in the membership. We need to sort out the fridge. Otherwise, I’m footloose.