Ephemera

As I write, I have no internet connection, so I’m writing this in Word, ready for when Ro solves the problem, assuming it’s capable of solution by my Little Computer Wiz. I did what I could – I moved the monitor around a bit, I restarted, I restarted the hub, I restarted the computer again and them I asked Ro if his computer had internet. That is my limit. What I’ll do when he buys a home of his own is beyond me.

I have finally potted up all the tomatoes, peppers (sweet and hot) and aubergines, and sowed all the spring-sown seeds. I’ve also planted in bigger pots the first courgette plants. I am eyeing several dozen others with some anxiety, because if I don’t do them on Thursday they will have to wait at least ten days. Courgette plants (zucchini, if you prefer) grow a lot in ten days.

I’m doing well in some ways. I went to the chemist today and bought fresh supplies of make-up and similar dull but necessary things (I optimistically bought sunscreen, darlings!) in initial preparation for my hols. I really think I can manage with hand baggage, taking the barest liquid essentials in the clear plastic bag I’m disappointed to find I still need to take, plus two pairs of shoes, two skirts, two pairs of trousers, several teeshirts, a couple of tops for evenings and very little else. Well, knickers and similar unmentionables. Hotels always provide soap, shampoo and the rest, and I can wear a jacket. It’ll be fine, and there will be no waiting around dismally by the carousel while the final three items of baggage are loaded. Why is it that, however long you wait, something that isn’t yours always remains unclaimed?

Before then, I’ve a dispiriting amount of stuff to finish. I ducked out of a day-long thing at the school today – really, I was too busy and it was a ‘jolly good show, carry on chaps’ occasion if I’d gone, which isn’t really useful. Another governor, who would be useful, was going anyway.

That reminds me. I meant to send an email about Friday, when I usually go in to school for a music lesson, but I can’t. Nor can I send the email. Oh dear. I’ll have to drop in a note tomorrow if Ro can’t get the connection up. Which, since he doesn’t need it right now, he’s not attempting to do.

Hm. It’s odd, writing in the ‘wrong’ font and setting. I know that the good bloggers draft and hone, but I don’t. I write in Blogger, press ‘Publish’, read through to check for howlers – most of which I still miss – and that’s it. A friend keeps telling me to do back-ups, but I never have. It’s all trivial, really, and I’m quite happy for it to remain ephemeral, to be forgotten as quickly by you as it is by me.