I went out in search of soil for the tortoise pen this morning. I tried at the local gravel pit, but they didn’t have any and then I went to a garden centre, but the soil-based compost was £2.95 for a small bag and I’d need 25 of them and, frankly, I don’t love the tortoises enough. So I went to call on a friend, Stevo’s auntie, in the hope that her husband might have some – and he has, a bit stony but Stevo will sieve it for me and so that’ll be done. The tortoise run has its cover and I’ve hung the lamps and put in the plastic crates to hold the soil. Next, I’ll pot up some pansies for them and find some other plants – while at the garden centre, i checked out succulents, but crassula and kalanchoe aren’t good for tortoises, so I will have to keep thinking about it.
This afternoon, the Partner (strictly business, darlings) called round with three more lots for the sale – I must start typing up the catalogue, though a few more pieces are yet to come in. And then I fed all the animals and cuddled outdoor mother cat, who absolutely yearns for affection in a quite un-catlike way (I’m sure she used to be a pet and misses it) and then Ben’s family came to pick him up.
Luckily, they had hardly gone when Roses called in, so we spent the next hour or two eating and drinking, pooling our snacks to make a meal. All highly nutritious, darlings, I had lovely Norfolk salami, olives and home-grown tomatoes and cucumber, she had rollmops, then I produced parmesan, spinach and pine nut tartlet while she went for a lovely orange and polenta cake with yoghurt. We carried on tippling steadily and were … chatty by the time friend Graham called in.
Since then, I’ve been drinking tea and reading the papers, while cuddling Eloise cat. I suspect I’ll have an early night – but maybe not. I’m listening to music on BBC4 and I don’t have a tv in my bedroom. I never had, it always seemed a distraction from proper bedtime activity – but now I find it so hard to concentrate on a good bedtime book, maybe a television would be all right.