A vivid dream woke me up – not a bad one, it was exciting. It’s a funny thing, dreaming, isn’t it? There are a few dreams I’ve remembered since childhood, but mostly they’re forgotten within minutes. I deliberately don’t dwell on nightmares, so that I don’t remember them in the morning.
Today, I spent a while cleaning and tidying the kitchen, which was pleasantly soothing. And then I got to grips with the quinces, cutting them up for cotignac, which is a thick purée that keeps well in jars, though not as well as a jam because there’s less sugar, and using the cores and peel for more jelly. I’ll make that tomorrow.
Otherwise, I’ve mostly been reading. I meant to do some gardening, but haven’t, the plants I bought yesterday are still in their pots and the one bed I look after is still weedy. I should do it tomorrow though, because apparently it’ll turn colder next week and besides, I’ve got things on every day. I honestly never thought I’d turn into a committee person and I’m still not sure I really am – so many committees are composed of a couple of people who do the work and the rest who just talk, but not the ones I’m on, where we all pull our weight. Even so, I sometimes wonder what I’d do with my time if I had it to myself. I’ve a feeling I’d just lounge around, to be honest.
A colleague of Wink’s had a conference in Norwich, so she gave him some boxes for me, as she says she isn’t up to the long drive between Wiltshire and Norfolk until she has her new hip. So, dismayingly, I have a whole lot of brightly wrapped parcels, ready for an event that isn’t to be mentioned for the next couple of weeks. Bad enough having shopped, but wrapping and delivering is just pushing it a bit too far.