Gorgeous I’ve been, all day since applying The Face, although I didn’t manage much gardening afterwards. There was too much else to do – it turned out that 8 people had earned top scores in the Photo Trail, so the prizes had to be redistributed, first in intention and then in practice. I offered to sort out all the pictures so that they could be returned to their owners, which took a surprisingly long time, and cycling round the village takes ages – ages, honestly – as one keeps stopping to speak to people. All good and no chore at all, and something I should do more of.
When I delivered the prizes, one was to a girl I last saw when she was a pupil at the village school. A girl answered the door – “Are you Beth or Hannah?” I had to ask – but she took it in good part. What lovely teenagers they are, too. Although I (rather belatedly) heard the sounds of cutlery in the distance, so I’d evidently interrupted their tea, Beth was happy to have a chat and I put in a few *good governor* interested questions too, so that means I multi-tasked. Splendid.
Next resolution – be the community-minded person I meant to be. I often used to visit the pub – not so much for the drinking *cough* as for the company. I must start doing it again. And join in other things – there’s not a lot going on in this village, but everyone’s so lovely, it’d be really good to try to join in what there is.
At present, I’m not so much a pillar of the community as a flying buttress. And I pinched that (he was referring to the Church) from, I think, Winston Churchill.
Excellent as the weekend was, I wish I’d been free to watch the Test Match. It sounded quite thrilling, in a nail-biting way. The articles in today’s paper are hilarious – the description of Monty Panesar, for example, as too poor a batsman to be called a rabbit but rather a ferret – because “ferrets go in after rabbits” and poor old Ponting huffing about gamesmanship – sure, dear heart, they were time-wasting, but all the same, your team still couldn’t bowl out two tail-enders. I’m not partisan (well, hardly at all) and generally speaking have the softest spot for the underdog while applauding fine players, but this was sheer nerve-wracking entertainment. Especially if you’re not Australian, of course.