Z loses her spring

The day went well until the end, when it didn’t exactly go wrong but I was wound up at a time of day when I am ready to wind down.

I managed to do quite a lot really. I started with the worst thing, which is always a good idea. I wrote to my solicitor who, sorry to say, has left undone those things which he ought to have done and told him so. And asked for an acknowledgement of my letter and when I could expect a time schedule and approximate cost of those things that he ought to have done. I said it politely, of course.

I did quite a lot of cooking and, as Paul the Fish called this morning, we now have enough food for the week, except for vegetables.

We tidied and hoovered. We entertained a friend for afternoon tea. I took several phone calls and emails with commission bids for the auction. I brought pots containing frost-sensitive plants indoors and washed the mud off the paving; though that work isn’t finished yet and I’ve just discovered a lot of bulbs that I removed from pots in the spring and now need replanting.

I forget the rest, but I didn’t get around to any ironing, which was also on the mental List. But there’s no hurry for that. I should mention, however, that Tim cleaned up the kitchen. Twice. Once before I cooked and once afterwards.

The winding up thing was a friend emailing to say her son said that we were breaking the law by proposing to meet for lunch because more than one household isn’t allowed to mix. So she’d cancel. Now, this dear friend is in her late eighties and has had cancer for many years, it having recurred for the severalth time at the start of the year. I completely appreciate her son being very protective. But neither the restaurant nor I is breaking the law and wouldn’t do so. I sent a screenshot of the BBC website saying what the law is in Norwich. She’s still cancelling and that’s quite understandable, though I think that her officious son should be kinder to his mother, who has hardly seen another soul for seven months and had been looking forward to meeting a few friends. I was quite forthright in saying that her son was wrong about the law, however, and please would she reassure him? I would not want misinformation to be spread about the restaurant, nor about me. I was nice but, for me, quite sharp and I’d really like to be assertive with the erroneous son. I’ll never meet him though, so it won’t happen.

But it’s the wrong time of day for it and I’m upset. Not even for myself, but because the wretched man, who’s probably about my age and should know a lot better, can’t be bothered to get his facts right and convinces his poor mum that he knows all, when she’s vulnerable and anxious. “I’ll check and get back to you, mum,” would have been fine. “I’d honestly rather you didn’t mum, I worry about you” would have been fine.

There are, of course, tricks and techniques for putting oneself into a good humour and I recognise, too, that I’m tired because I’ve been busy today. So I’ll be tranquil again later and I’ll certainly find something to laugh about, because that’s best of all.

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