It was my youngest grandson’s fourth birthday today. Ro and Dora had invited a neighbour, her sister and me for a picnic in Earlham park. Babies and small children took numbers over the permitted six but everyone ignores the government and uses their own common sense now, so it was fine.
After our unseasonal heatwave – all bank holidays had fine weather, which is unprecedented – it has been wet and cold for the past week or so, but it came good for Rufus’s special day. We dressed too warm, actually. I’ve taken to carrying a scarf in case I’m suddenly asked to wear a mask – not a situation I’ve been in yet, but it’s bound to come – and I fashioned it into a hat for Perdita when the sun was too strong. Think of old photos of a hankie tied with knots to protect a man’s balding head; rather like that. Perdita was not impressed, to tell the truth.
Just one more session of fence painting and it will be done, except that I’ll use the rest to put a second coat on the more exposed bits. Neville has nearly finished taking down the old, disused henhouse, though I need to discuss the final bits with him. I do want to rescue a couple of doors first, so that’s top of the list for tomorrow.
Rufus has a second birthday party at the weekend and more people are invited, on the understanding that no one stays too long and crowds the garden. I’m privileged to have been asked to both – Tim too, of course – and am very glad to see my family, because I miss them very much indeed. We may go a few weeks without seeing each other but it’s not being allowed to that has been awfully hard. Though we could have cocked a snook and done so, we’ve done what a disrespected government has asked, even though it hasn’t followed its own rules. We are better than they are, in short.