I had several letters to write – or rather, two, but one of those was going to eight different people, so I got them all ready, printed out address labels (I already had that set up, so it was quicker than writing envelopes) and stamped them. Then I did various other bits and pieces, keeping an eye on the time, so that I’d leave in time for my 9.30 meeting. I thought I was doing quite nicely, plenty of time in hand, it was 8.38. After quite some time, it occurred to me that it had been 8.38 for ages…it was 9.15, my face wasn’t on and my hair was wet.
I made it to the meeting on time, fully made up with dryish, if slightly unruly hair. And I’d posted the letters on the way.
The Sage was in London for the day, at a picture sale, and I played the clarinet (not for very long actually, but I’m still resolutely fitting it in every day) and ate lunch in the porch in the sunshine. I read the papers, read a book, typed emails on the iPad. If I’m feeling a bit wound up – not worried, there’s a lot of stuff on and I can only assume that’s the reason for not sleeping – then I reckoned that it was time to relax, knowing I’d be out this evening. I sat down to fill out my seed order to take to Gardening Club, perched on a stool by the Aga (by the time I left the porch the sun had moved round and I was a little chilly) and found myself nodding off, so I curled up in a chair and went to sleep instead.
The speaker tonight was great fun, he’s an expert on dahlias (and also a qualified judge) and begonias, a retired landscape gardener and has a thorough north Suffolk/south Norfolk accent, which is always a pleasure to hear. A very good and interesting speaker, I chatted to various people afterwards and won a tray of violas in the raffle. I’ve also promised the present President that I’ll rejoin the WI after Christmas.
She also asked after Al, whom everyone knows from his shop days, and another woman overheard and realised who I was – I had recognised her as a customer, although I still don’t know her name – and we had a chat. It’s a pleasure to be known as Al’s mum (or any of my family’s relation, come to that) – I mean, I don’t mind at all if they don’t know me as *Z* but as an appendage to one of my family. When my mother moved here, she was quite affronted to be greeted as Z’s mother, or the Sage’s mother-in-law (worse still if anyone thought she was his mother, since she was only some 13 years older than he). She’d never minded, when married, being the other half to her husband and, indeed, was proud to be. But she never adjusted to being called my mother, rather than I being known as her daughter. And honestly, I think that’s a pity. But she always wanted me to remain her dear little girl.
Wouldn’t it be nice if I were, though? I don’t think I could be described as any of those now!