It’s an odd week. I have a whole row of meetings and am spending half the days getting ready for them or doing stuff arising from them. I’m vastly intimidated by writing down everything I eat and today it’s been inconvenient to eat anything much at all, which gives a very bad example to someone with an eating disorder.
I made a particularly nice dishful of kedgeree for the blokes this evening, ate a couple of forkfuls and planned to have a proper meal when I got home at 9 o’clock. They ate it all. Shovelled the lot in. Gannets*. I ate a yoghurt and an orange and drank red wine and whisky. I do not deserve to sleep at all.
However, some considerable satisfaction this morning. Two varieties of tomato are up – Black Russian and Green Zebra, all three of lettuce and a tray of coleus. And Squiffany expressed considerable interest in the whole growing thing, so she sowed more seeds herself. Red cabbage, sweet peas, courgettes and globe artichokes. I have some globe artichokes I grew last year, but the chickens have pecked them badly and most of them haven’t survived. If I end up with too many, Al can sell the plants or they can go at the Village Festival in July (they’ll be in pretty big pots by then, mind you).
A couple of days ago, when the sun was shining, I walked through a whole cloud of midges. There was a housefly in the greenhouse on Monday and I just swatted away a fruit fly. I’ve never known this in February before. Absurd.
Tomorrow I’m visiting Windsor Castle. As a tourist, not a guest. Though a Guest of Her Majesty does not necessarily mean that one has been invited to dine at the royal table.
*As you gather, I grew up in the Tony Hancock era