The view across the field is delightful, now that the fences have gone – not that the fences themselves were the problem, it was the brambles, nettles and tall grass that grew between the fence and the beck that were in the way.  No need to be concerned about the lack of cover for wildlife, there is plenty of that still.

The garden is drying out rapidly – it has been a dry winter with hardly any snow and not much more rain and the soil is light and sandy – we were supposed to get overnight rain but it didn’t amount to much at all.  The small area we sowed with grass seed has done well, but I put the sprinkler on for a while yesterday – I have never watered the lawn: grass is resilient and recovers from drought once it has established, but this is too young and I’ll help it along this year.  I’m all heart…

I arrived home to a pile of post that I haven’t got around to opening yet.  That is, we opened anything that looked like an actual letter or something nice, but letters from the Inland Revenue, my accountant and my solicitor, as well as a few other things, have been put aside for another day or two.  I could do it, but I don’t see why I should.  Apparently, I heard on the radio this morning, the word “adulting,” as used by young people semi-ironically – but not really, I suspect – has officially entered the language.  I became adult at a young age.  But now, I allow myself to acknowledge when I feel fragile, for one reason or another, and I am giving myself an extra day to not have to deal with anything I can avoid.   Just the one day, of course.  That’s plenty for a self-control fanatic like wot I am.