It was the weather. It was quite peculiar. A frost, and then it sort of rained in the morning – but it was more of a wet mistiness without the actual fog. Water hung in the air, but puddles showed no tremor of raindrops.
The shop was quite busy all the same and Eileen and I took most of the morning to do all the extra work, as well as serving customers. The housekeeper of a local Lady came in with a cheque to pay the account. She said that her (the Lady’s) signature is becoming more shaky and this might be the last time that she signs the cheque herself and her husband might have to do it in future. I sympathised – it’s such a sad thing to watch, the gradual failing in someone’s abilities. Harder still, of course, to endure oneself. “She has gone from a plate with a knife and fork to a bowl with a spoon,” she said. “The next step will be to feed her, and that is something none of us wants to have to accept.” She is a lovely woman, the housekeeper, and must be such a support.
This afternoon, I’d planned to ascend a ladder and pick Bramley apples. It had stopped not-raining, but drops hung from all the leaves and branches and I have left it to another day. I was going to make a couple more batches of quince jelly, having dripped the juice in a jellybag overnight, but Dilly phoned to ask if I could sit with the children for a while as she wanted to go to Yagnub and Pugsley had just gone to sleep. Squiffany and I played and chatted, and when Dilly came back we asked if we could carry on playing in my house.
So, no work and lots of play. This evening I had a meeting, to which I was driving, so no alcohol either. When I came home, I had a sedate cup of rose tea. Maybe I should go to bed, so that I will not succumb to the single malt out of mild boredom.
If I haven’t visited you recently or commented much, or replied to emails or written actual letters (all these things I’m guilty of with some of you) I really am sorry. I am trying to catch up with everything, but it may take a week or two yet.
Don’t worry about me. I’m good. I have been trying to figure out how to word the Christmas letter explaining why I didn’t send out even one card or letter last Christmas. I did finally clean my oven a couple of days ago though! In other words, I think you’re doing great!
Well, having had a cyber-visit that makes me even more special I guess. And as for the ‘son’ comment… Well, there are no words. x
Plenty of play and less work seems entirely appropriate. I really need to plan for that myself.
One year, a week before Christmas, I decided that no cards etc were going to happen. The Sage did them all himself in two days!
I’d not say a word. Let each person assume that their card went astray in the post.
Badger, darling, you couldn’t be more special.
Dave, let go of the guilt and accept that ‘good enough’ is, has always been my way of thinking. Mind you, I’ve never felt a lot of guilt about having fun.
Then again, the best of all worlds is when work is play. You do tend to enjoy yourself, don’t you Z?
I look for enjoyment in everything I do and put bad experiences behind me as quickly as I can – which, with my memory, isn’t hard. Life’s too short not to make the best of it.
Z: I too am way behind visiting friends and see no relief till next week but just had to call to say I love you. Oh no that’s a song isn’t it? You know what I mean.
That song is known in our family as I just called to read your meter, for no good reason. And you are always welcome and beloved here.