I’ve been convinced all day that it’s Monday. I woke soon after 6 – no, I don’t know why, I hate waking up early and I absolutely don’t get up early except for a very good reason – and saw the sunshine and put the radio on and it wasn’t the news. I was puzzled and it took me several moments to remember that it’s Sunday today. It’s probably because the family usually comes over on a Sunday. Anyway, I lay and thought about it for a bit and then went down and scrambled eggs and toasted a roll and made a pot of tea, loaded it all, suitably crockeried, on a tray and brought it back to bed, with yesterday’s papers that I hadn’t finished. So it was about 8 o’clock when I actually got up, which is still early for a Sunday but quite all right.
The Rector had forgotten to send me hymns – I don’t blame him at all, of his six parishes, there are at least three different systems, either chosen several weeks at a time, chosen by the organist or chosen by the person leading the service – and he rapidly came up with four suitable numbers. I played them each in their turn at a brisk pace. Not having had time to look at them in advance, I reckoned that panache was what was needed. Does panache have an accent? Hm. I don’t think so. Anyway, my days of adequate French are long gone and now it’s franglais at best, which is far more entertaining.
Zerlina found my last few pieces of salty liquorice yesterday and helped herself. She offered a piece to her mother – I discovered today that this was the last piece, so she’d evidently decided to pass on the responsibility. Anyway, Weeza didn’t take it and I’ve eaten it. I contemplated flying to Holland, just for the liquorice in the airport shop and coming home again, but better sense has prevailed and I bought a kilo of it online. Al and Dilly don’t like it and there will be plenty for the rest of us to share. I mean, there would be enough even if they did.
I’m starting to catch up on reading blogs again – I’ve been behind since getting back from Wales. I can only apologise. Blogging, both reading and writing, isn’t what it is, I’m afraid. Looking at my stats, I have pretty much the same level of readership as I ever do, though comments have diminished considerably – maybe I should just turn off the need to register again, I’m sure it’s most annoying – but few people write as regularly as they used to, including me. I still like blogging better than any of the other internet engagements, other than personal emailing, of course, but it does need much greater commitment of time and effort and I realise that the personal blog has been dwindling for a long time.
By the way, our friend Dave East is in hospital at present, having had a major operation last week. It was elective surgery in a sense – that is, he needed it to be done at some time but he wasn’t ill – but now it’s been done, it’s hoped that his original kidney condition can be improved. Dave has always been a good friend to me and I’m sure you’ll all join me in wishing him much better health in the future.
This afternoon at about quarter to four, I suddenly realised with a shock that I’d missed my weekly appointment with the Headmaster. Two minutes later, I realised that I still believed it was Monday today. I’m giving up on the day now. I’m going to have a long soak in a hot bath and then sit by the fire reading the papers. Again.