Z is puffed out

You know how it is, if you’re a wind instrument player, when your lip muscles have given out and you’re having to use your cheek muscles to play, the next stage being to blow out your cheeks, which is not good?  Or, when carrying things, when your arms have lost their strength so you’re having to put your back into it, which puts you in danger of putting your back out once your muscles go?

Yeah, it’s like that today.  Three of us just exchanging emails, wishing each other a quiet weekend.  But tomorrow morning, I’m meeting the churchwardens at the church to discuss the break-in – several churches have been targeted in the last few nights, looking for money or easily stolen stuff.  In our case, they found a bottle of Communion wine, or rather port.  I reckon that’s okay, better nick a tenner’s worth of wine, which I give anyway, than do any damage out of spite because there’s nothing else to steal.

I thought I’d spend the afternoon in the greenhouse, but that was a forlorn hope.  The first break from work was at 4.30 and I didn’t actually finish until 20 minutes ago.  Since then, I’ve phoned a friend to rejoice with her about the birth of her first grandchild, a little girl called Olivia Grace.  Other friends have had a baby daughter this week too, so much happiness and relief that all has gone well.

Not that other things have, with the dreadful news of the helicopter crash near here yesterday evening.  I don’t know if the fog last night played a part, there’s plenty of speculation over the cause and I’m not joining it.  Ro and Dora are due home from Morocco this weekend and all my thoughts are for their safe return.

Tomorrow, definitely the greenhouse, with what’s left of the seeds I’ve bought.  When I arrived home this afternoon, I found a scattering of seeds on the drawing room carpet.  I recognised them as either spinach or Swiss chard and, checking the remaining packets, they’re the latter.  I gathered them up into an envelope, not being able to find even the chewed remnants of the pack.  I should just be grateful that Ben only half-inched one lot of seeds and that they’re large and easy to gather up.

I have eaten cake every day this week.  It’s quite deliberate, it’s been my way of caring for myself.  I’ve had enough now though, I think.  I’ll find another indulgence for next week.

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