Wednesday, April 24, 2024

Done, moon and Irish fairy tales.

1. A meeting that is over by 9.30am.

2. A big full moon is stuck on next door's chimney pots.

3. By my bed is a large and comforting book of Irish fairy tales that I can use to read myself into sleep. The last two stories involved heroes whose values or physical needs clashed with their quest so they failed -- but one got more chances; and the other was forgiven entirely.

Tuesday, April 23, 2024

Eggshell, turkey oak and grateful.

1. Smacking a hardboiled egg to break the shell.

2. Pale green leaves on the huge oak tree at the corner of The Grove.

3. There is nothing quite like hearing about the history of diseases to make you feel grateful for living in the twenty-first century. I'm listening to Crypt by Dr Alice Roberts, and I've reached the chapter on leprosy.

Monday, April 22, 2024

Filler, thirsty and in the north.

1. Smearing a bit of filler into the holes in Alec's bedroom wall where we've taken out screws and fixings. We're summoning the energy to redecorate, so I thought I might as well do the filling.

2. I only realise when I have a cup of tea in my hands how thirsty I am. 

3. The wind has been in the north for a few days, and that side of the house is noticeably cooler. I'm glad I can escape into the warmer rooms on the south west side.

Thursday, April 18, 2024

Morning, errands and entertainment.

1. I murmur an acknowledging greeting to a passing bin man.

He is a well brought-up African and replies with eye contact and a warm 'Good morning. How are you?'

I then have to respond with information about my wellness, and a polite inquiry about his. For me as a well brought-up woman from south east England, this is terribly awkward; but I value the disruption and  I appreciate the warmth.

2. A new tube of toothpaste and a birthday card -- these are not difficult errands. 

3. I discover that Is it Cake? is a real thing, not just invented for a gag on Ghosts. I only know this because my husband and daughter are fans.

3b. The episode of Successville in which Martin Kemp gets so confused that he forgets his own name will never, ever get old.

Wednesday, April 17, 2024

In the pond, spotted leaves and better kind of chocolate spread.

1. No tadpoles that I can see -- but something flips in the water just beyond my field of focus.

2. I take the muddy path so I can check on the orchids -- their spotted leaves are present among fine new grass blades.

3. Nick has bought the better kind of chocolate spread -- the one with loads of hazelnuts in it.

Tuesday, April 16, 2024

Before, filler and in the recycling.

1. Getting back just before the rain.

2. Smearing filler into wall holes.

3. We have had a collection of empty Prime bottles for a while now because when this influencer-powered energy drink first came out, the children were sure they would be valuable one day. But now thinking has changed, and I get permission to put the lot in the recycling.

Monday, April 15, 2024

Coffee, just passing and flowers on the bank.

1. Unexpectedly, a chance for a coffee and a gossip. Our slower times have converged again.

2. I make a short (and rapid so I'm not noticed) diversion through the park and to see Bettany and friends playing on the swings.

3. In my absence, the bank has become covered in spring flowers -- violets, primroses in various shades of yellow and ochre, and anemones, and even some early bluebells.

Done, moon and Irish fairy tales.

1. A meeting that is over by 9.30am. 2. A big full moon is stuck on next door's chimney pots. 3. By my bed is a large and comforting boo...