If I haven’t visited, I apologise, but Bloglines isn’t working and most of you are only listed there. I’ll be up to thousands of unread posts again by the time I can find everyone again. Mind you, I’ve still got 33 more posts to work through even in Google reader, so the odds are I’ll never catch up.
And I just remembered I haven’t started on the PCC minutes I meant to write up this evening. Oh well. Too late now. I should see if I’ve got the music I’m supposed to play tomorrow but have no intention of practising. Hah.
Anyhoo. No, not a lot has been achieved. I succeeded in some delegating, which was good. I’ve sowed some more seeds and spoken encouragingly to seedlings. It may be a bit early for sowing runner beans, because they get to a certain size and start to entwine among themselves, which is a bit awkward when you come to plant them out, but I can’t fuss. I won’t have any spare time next weekend, because there are two family birthdays and Easter and Wink is coming to stay, less than a fortnight before her birthday, which makes a third, so I will be highly busy being jolly.
For a change.
I was busying myself in the greenhouse this afternoon, and the door was open and Tilly came in. I made her very welcome, but after a few minutes I thought the atmosphere was a bit pongy. She left and I followed her towards the end door (this greenhouse is actually three, end to end, so there are three doors) and it got pongier. I observed with dismay that she had stopped for lavatorial purposes just inside the door on the way in. “Tilly did a poo in the greenhouse” I wailed in the general direction of the Sage, to the amusement of Friend Jamie who had called in – but I knew that the Sage quite enjoys clearing up ordure, so it was worth becoming a figure of fun.
Tonight, as I was cooking dinner, the Sage came into the kitchen. “Can I help?” he enquired, having calculated asking time carefully. I said things were under control, thanks. “Then can I use your phone?”
I think I’m officially better. The Sage hasn’t joined in the cooking all week – although I’ve been out every night, I’ve still cooked dinner, even when I haven’t eaten it.