I spent the morning thinking how jolly lovely people are. Because I cheerily said to someone whose granddaughter is getting christened here on Sunday that we’d decorate the church, that meant I landed four other people with the job of doing nine flower arrangements. And they are all really busy but no one complained a bit.
And then afterwards, I helped carry out three dozen cups and saucers and a hot-water urn to one of their cars so that she could take it to someone else’s house (she came and did her flower arrangement this afternoon) as I’d offered them for her coffee morning tomorrow, which I said I’d go to before I realised it clashed with something else.
And after that, I walked home, and there was the dustcart and the dustmen just emptying the wheely bins into it. The chap didn’t see me coming, but I saw him, bending to pick up a few bits that had fallen on the ground and tossing them in the dustcart. Then he carefully and neatly lined the bins against the wall. “I’m just in time to take them home, thank you,” I said jovially. “And, thank you for picking up the odds and ends,” I added. It’s not what dustmen are reputed to do – but actually, there’s never anything left lying around. And the bins were rather overfull as we forgot them last time, but they didn’t mind.
Later, I went to have lunch with a friend and we chatted so much that I rather overstayed and had to phone Al to ask him to let Tilly out. When I got home, I had a lot to do in the three-quarters of an hour before I was going out again, so I slammed a chicken leg into the oven, did Tilly’s dinner, chopped an onion and put it in a pan with some stock, let it cook for a bit, added some some vegetable soup I’d made a couple of days ago and a couple of tomatoes from a tin, put some new potatoes and a carrot on to cook separately (real cheat’s cookery here), belted down to the greenhouse to put the heater on and do the watering and close up – there was an air frost last night – took Tilly for a walk, came back and put the nearly-cooked chicken and the carrot in the sauce and back in the oven, phoned the Sage to check he had caught the train back from London, got a slice of bread and a chunk of cheese, ate some of them, emptied and refilled the dishwasher, put the potatoes in the casserole, prepared sprouting broccoli, ate the rest of the bread and cheese, put on lipstick, took the casserole out of the oven, put a plate to warm and wrote a couple of emails.
Then it was time to leave. On time.
The Sage had a lovely time in London. But he’d accidentally locked his phone and didn’t realise it, so didn’t know how to ring me. Isn’t he sweet? Lucky I checked, I was going to go to the Vodaphone place in Norwich tomorrow and say it didn’t work. I’d have felt such a fool.