Just as well Z is not a hypochondriac

 The doctors' receptionist phoned bright and early to say the results of my latest blood test had come in and a doctor could see me today.  Since lockdown, it has not been easy to see a doctor, so I was taken aback.  But in I toddled this afternoon and I was surprised again.  

I'm not anaemic now, though advised to carry on taking iron for the next few weeks.  But my •something I didn't recognise* markers are up, which indicate the ovaries, apparently.  It's most likely to be an ovarian cyst, she reckons, as they're not up all that much and it would be much higher for cancer.  So now I'll be referred for an ultrasound to have a look.  She doesn't think it's likely to be any problem with my digestive system.  So there we go.  I'm still down for the other tests, but we plod on.  

On the way out, I saw a friend in the waiting room, who wasn't surprised that I'd been seen so quickly.  She says they're fabulous at the practice and she's never had any problems.  I said, it was the speed that disconcerted me, I assumed it must be worrying news, but she said efficiency is typical.  But I must be costing the NHS a packet - other than vaccinations, I haven't troubled it for a decade - a couple of brief interviews with nurses is all - but I'm getting my entire money's worth at present.

We have had rain this week, not in great quantities, but some of the lawn is already showing green.  It's shaded by trees, so hadn't been so badly affected as the rest of the grass.  I have little doubt that it'll all green up in the next few weeks.  We visited Beth Chatto's garden on Tuesday.  She created this garden from the 1960s onwards and was a firm believer in planting the right plants for the conditions, not planting what you want and trying to make the soil and the climate fit them.  She was especially known for planting in poor, dry soil, which is what I have.  Back in the day, they never watered the driest part, but did do some other watering.  Now, nothing is watered.  There are basically four areas - the dry part, the area where a stream runs through, where a large pond was created, a - can't remember what it's called, but a 'difficult' area, next to where a farmer created a reservoir and dumped a whole lot of excavated earth and everything else, to which she added a huge amount of mushroom compost to try to make it workable before planting, and a woodland.  This was already a wood, but much of it blew down in the 'great storm' in 1987, which freed her to replant with what she wanted.

Of course, it's suffered in the drought, but it's interesting to see what's done well and what hasn't.  I've visited the garden before, but not for many years and, going on the A140 rather than the slow A12, it took less time to get there than we expected.  We plan to visit again in the spring.

Z's tether is fairly stretchy

 I'm finally at the stage of acknowledging that it's too much.  I've been gentle with myself for years, which helps at the time, but not in the long run, because difficult but necessary things get pushed back.  They do get done in the end, but I've always assumed I have time, which isn't a sensible assumption.

It's as much on Wink's behalf as my own.  Driving her to hospital today, I nearly missed coming off the main road, but remembered in time not to inconvenience anyone else, then took the wrong turning at the next roundabout, which was just into a service road so I did a rapid turn and no one but Wink and me knew.  Wink is more in touch with her feelings than I am (this is polite for emotional).  I clamp down.  In my experience over half my lifetime, letting go just means it's harder to come back to an even keel.  Facilis descensus averno, as Virgil put it in a different context - he meant, if you go wrong then it's a bugger to come back to the straight and narrow.  I just mean, keep emotionally stable.  If you let the pressure in and go below that stability, it's doubly hard to catch up again.  You may disagree and you're welcome to.

Anyway, it's been a good day overall, though not an easy one.  I finally typed up the last two lots, which are truly beautiful. If I hadn't overspent so violently last year, I'd be bidding myself.  I have taken photos of them, but they aren't good enough and I'll take more tomorrow.  At a pinch, I've done enough to start on the catalogue, but I've got more work tomorrow and also have a *potential but not likely* client in his 90s coming over to look at the china.  On Friday, I'm off to Wales.  I'd like to see friends on the way/way back and I've been horribly remiss in not getting in touch yet.  Wink had her breathing test - this is not diagnostic, just to show how much difficulty she has, to inform the later heart test.  I am pretty sure that I'm more concerned about her than about myself, though the procedures I'm due to have are rather more unpleasant.  Shit happens, darlings.  No point in worrying, unless it's about someone you care about rather a lot.

It's rained for the last couple of nights and been nowhere near so hot.  I just heard thunder.  I'm a little bit sad that summer is probably over, even if it has been a bit much.

Zerlina was 18 yesterday and her brother is 15 tomorrow.  Their parents have been married 21 years today.  On the 24th, Al and Dilly will have been married 22 years.  Well played, all of you.  Love and congratulations.  Zerlina passed her driving test a couple of weeks ago, which is also fab.  Worth being old for.  I'll press on and be fairly cheerful.

A mere 22º

 It's been appreciably cooler today, which simply means normal for the time of the year.  My day started early. I woke up around 4.30, which means a good night (anything before 3 is bad news) and was relaxedly scrolling on my phone - at that moment wrestling with New York Times Connections, having already solved Wordle - when the cat sat up and started licking her lips.  That's not good.  I got up and walked round the bed to her, she started vibrating and that does not mean purring.  It was more of a full body thing than that.  I picked her up, decided we wouldn't make it downstairs and held her over the washbasin.  She was not happy.

One furball later, neatly deposited in the sink, I took her downstairs and invited her to go outside.Ten minutes later, having cleaned the basin (it was not one of the dry furballs, it would have been most unpleasant in bed), I invited her back in.  She ignored me, indignant.

Anyway, I had a nap later before getting up, so the morning hadn't started too badly.

Yesterday, Ro came over, as he'd been invited to a get-together later with a group of friends and I'm on his way.  But when he arrived, he was massively distressed.  He'd just had a text from the wife of a friend of his.  The night before, M had a heart attack, was revived by the paramedics but tests had shown he was brain dead.  His wife had to tell a few people and then asked Ro to tell the rest of his friends.  

I only met M a couple of times, when they were all at school together.  He was a year older than Ro, only 43.  Forty three.  He'd had a medical a few months ago, because he and G were adopting a baby and they both needed checkups. Nothing showed.  Lovely man, a lovely couple, now G is a widow with a young baby.  If I'm as upset as I am, I can only imagine how very hard it is for his wife, family and friends, as well as Ronan who was a close friend.  They used to see each other every couple of weeks.  

I've nearly finished the china, up to Lot 100 of 102, but then there are the books, around a dozen of them.  I also have to label the china.  It's in my very secure big dining room and then it'll all be put in the strong room, which is so secure that the police let the Sage keep his guns in there without a gun cupboard (obviously, as I don't have a licence, I don't have them any more).  Russell didn't kill but he was a crack shot with a rifle to a target.  He liked the 1,000 yards distance best, which I can't begin to imagine.  A bullseye, at least 9 times out of 10, at more than half a mile.  Beyond belief to me. He loved to calculate the distortion (mirage), trajectory and even curvature of the earth, all in his head, before he fired.  Shooting a pheasant was too easy and he didn't want to kill for sport.  

It'll be an early start tomorrow, as we're off on a coach trip, all highly cultural of course.  We need to leave home by 7 o'clock.  The cats will be surprised.  Then a couple of fairly busy days, then I'm off to the caravan, possibly for the last time, on Friday.  

Z is fine, whatever the doctor thinks

I finally sat down at my elderly desktop computer and found that there are literally dozens of pages in Safari that are open but empty.  I can only think that the cat has tried to blog and didn't quite manage it.  I've closed at least 20 of them, but there's a long way to go and the dear old Mac is slow, nowadays, even just shutting something.  

Things are all right, or possibly not.  Wink and I spend time together bemoaning the ageing process.  I'm still on iron tablets and am due another blood test tomorrow, to see if there's progress.  Last time, there was and there was no blood where there had no business to be blood, but my very nice doctor clearly isn't happy.  He has a feeling.  And, very sensibly, he's acting on that feeling, which I can only applaud, at least in theory.  I don't think he's right, because there's no blood where there shouldn't be (which would be the only symptom apart from anaemia) and I feel absolutely well, with more verve (even allowing for the enervating effect of many weeks of heatwave) than I did have before the iron.  I don't think I would if his alternative suggestion is the case, which leaves me, on a balance of probabilities, thinking I'm probably okay.  But he's right to check.  So I've been referred for a combined gastroscopy and colonoscopy (Ro and I have giggled about being skewered from both ends, because you've got to laugh, innit?) which frankly sounds ghastly.  I have to drink something the night before and am darkly warned to stay near the lavatory, not to travel and, well, just park myself by the loo or on the loo until I'm emptier than I've ever been in my life, and then don't eat anything.  I haven't got a date for this yet, but Lovely Dilly and Al have assured me that they will take me (I suspect they'll be at work and I don't want them to take time off, but we'll see how that goes.  Plan B is Ronan, who lives close to the hospital).

An unrelated but dismal other medical thing was a gumboil.  Very unfortunately, I've got an infection that can only be cleared up temporarily - there is nothing wrong with the tooth, which is the molar next to the wisdom tooth, bottom left, but I've got to have it out.  The appointment for that is just before the bank holiday weekend.  Ro had to have a wisdom tooth out a few years ago, for a similar reason and he's warned me what to expect.  It's not nice - the extraction itself is the least of it.  I'll have a difficult week or so afterwards.  Eat well before you come in, the receptionist said kindly, when I was making the appointment.  So I had a week of antibiotics to help suppress the infection - I was lucky (I'll find luck wherever I go, somehow) that the pus - sorry, I shuddered too - has been draining downwards into my gum, otherwise I'd have been in a lot of pain.  It's almost as unpleasant to consider this infection draining into my poor jaw.  But at least I feel nothing.

You think this is enough?  My lovely sister Wink is about to have a breathing test at the hospital, because she's having problems.  The lung guy assures her it isn't cancer.  The heart guy assures her it isn't heart failure.  What it's likely to be is a blockage in an artery, so she's also booked for an angiogram.  This is three days after my tooth extraction, so I'll be hungry but able to drive.

Weeza and co had a lovely holiday and all went well with Wink, Izzy the dog and the house.  We didn't do the jollies we'd planned because it was just too hot, but we went out for lunch instead and discovered a splendid pub that we will visit again, by the river in Coltishall.

I've mostly been relaxing, because of the heat.  My watch tells me that I'm taking less exercise than a year ago.  Well yes, that's because of the heat and it's actual NHS advice.  People die of this!  I'm old enough to give myself leeway.  I'd wanted to go to London for various exhibitions, but they have to wait.  No unnecessary journeys.  But I am off to the caravan on Friday, because I've got things to do there.  Mostly packing up, which I'm really sad about but I console myself with the thousands of pounds I'll save that I can do something else with.  I don't save for my old age any longer, I'm already there.

I've written more than enough, but there's a lot still to say.  So, after a rather depressing to read post - I'm fine, genuinely, it's just life - I'll have a mixture next time.  Which in theory will be tomorrow, but I'm in the middle of photographing china, which also involves describing and checking for damage, so takes as many hours as I can bear to spend.  

Finally signed in

 I’m writing on my phone. I can’t sign in on the laptop. It’s as if the powers don’t like bloggers any more. 

I went to the caravan in Wales and have confirmed that I’ll give it up at the end of the season. Being without internet, I kept a journal but it rambled somewhat - it’s one thing to write daily and post it, but several days of it just seems indulgent. 

I’ve been dutifully swallowing iron pills, have had another blood test and the doctor is due to phone tomorrow. 

Last Saturday, I visited the London flat, which the lovely tenants vacated the day before, as they were returning to Australia. By now, it should have been redecorated and a few repairs made, ready for the new tenants tomorrow. 

I also did my annual accounts and gave them to my accountant today. 

What else I’ve done has been to gather together nearly all the china for the next auction - a few other items booked in. 

When it’s all written down, it looks as if I’ve got a lot done. I suppose I have. 

Wink is house/dog sitting for Weeza and co, who are on holiday. We’ll have a day out together soon. 

Blogger nanny knows nothing

 I'm having problems with Blogger.  I much preferred to use the blog on my own domain, but I had a huge amount of difficulty with it last year and I've simply given up.  It's all complicated and it was because *they* messed up and the person I managed to speak to gave me incorrect information, because clearly he didn't understand the problem and didn't realise he didn't, so didn't kick it up to the next level.  Eventually, after an hour on the phone on another occasion, I got a woman who did understand, sorted it out from her end - but then I was removed from the sign in page.  At that point, I came back to Blogger.  At least, as I've paid, the blog is there.  I had it for several years and don't want to lose it.

Anyway, for an unknown reason, Blogger has my default email wrong (though only here) - it's a real address but not the one the blog is linked to.  This is why, sometimes, when I answer comments, it's under a different address.  Just going from the blog to the comment signs me out of the correct account.  But, for the last couple of days, I've been unable to change it.  I'm only able to post at all because I go back in 'history' to the post edit page.  If you leave a comment and it doesn't appear, it's because I'm having such difficulty approving it.

I've a horrible feeling I'm going to have to speak to someone.

Meanwhile, today is a computer day, in the work sense.  That, of course, is why I'm writing here instead of doing the work.  Maybe coffee will help.  

Since the hot weather started, caffeine hasn't been part of my life, for the most part.  I've just been drinking a lot of water with a great deal of ice and slices of cucumber and lemon.  It's getting boring, to be frank, but what else to do?  Everything else is too hot or too sweet or, in the case of alcohol during the day, I don't want it and it's too strong for the weather.  Today, the temperature is due to rise to a mere 24º (75º) so perhaps a nice, strong cup of black coffee will start professional Z off.

The other nuisance with Blogger is that it insists on putting my name.  Here, I am Z and always have been.  Autobuggerup repeatedly changes it.  I delete superfluous letters and Blanny tells me it knows best.  I have to type the next word and then go back and change it again.  I'm reasonably sure I can sign in to the correct account on my old computer, possibly on my phone too, so I trust I won't disappear again.

Z muses

 It's a funny thing.  When I was having tests,  I was more concerned about the nuisance of possibly having to rearrange things than anything else.  There are a number of things every single week from now until the end of the year, and quite a lot after that.  Anyway, it seems probable that my nice white blood cells are successfully fighting some viral infection and that is most likely to have skewed the red blood cells.  So I'm being prescribed iron tablets and am to be given another blood test in three weeks' time.  I've been extremely impressed by the GP practice and the two doctors I've spoken to/seen.  

Wink and I have been talking about being too busy for a while.  It's not just being busy, it's the structure of it.  Too many things that happen every week or every month and having to fit in extras where we can, then more crops up and we keep on juggling our time.  We don't see a way out of it.  We'd like to be able to be spontaneous, but it's a matter of looking in the diary and noting a day or two, three weeks hence, when we have the opportunity for spontaneity. That isn't being spontaneous, is it?  

Anyway, at least tomorrow I'm free until 6 o'clock, when we're going to the local theatre for dinner before a film.  Lovely, I can catch up with paperwork.

Z plans to relax

 I'm trying to clear the decks of paperwork over the next week or so, to take July off as much as I can.  Once August comes, I'll be working on the auction catalogue, which takes weeks, so this is my best chance.  

It's hot out there, but not in the house.  There is only one window that faces south and the main rooms are west-facing, with one east and west and the other being east and south.  So it's never oppressively hot, unless I've forgotten to open my bedroom window in the evening for an hour or two before bed.  

I spend my early morning and evening time listening to birdsong.  I'm having another go at identifying different birds - I don't have a very good ear for it, but have realised how many different ones we have.  A linnet, for instance.  I've never seen one in the garden, but according to Merlin, it's out there.  I was told, by the guys who came to inspect the bells at the church, that jackdaws had been nesting in the church tower, which surprised me as I've never noticed any, but yes, now I know what they sound like, we've got 'em.  Learning birdsong will be my mission for the rest of the nesting season.

Blog party done for another year

 It was a relaxed and cheerful blog party.  There were only 8 of us, but that made it easy.  I made pulled pork (slow cooked overnight, pulled apart with forks) and sirloin of beef, plus salads and eggs.  Then orange cake and chocolate cake, syllabub and strawberries, also local cheese.  Puds were dairy and gluten free, but I can always cater for any and all dietary requirements.  So much easier than it used to be and more necessary, as increasing numbers of people develop problems with various foods, as well as being vegetarian/vegan.  A friend posted photos on social media today, his partner is vegan and, whilst his lunch was vegetarian, hers was baked potato and baked beans and, honestly, that wouldn't make me very satisfied.  Stodge on stodge isn't very enjoyable.  I love vegetables, but the more obviously protein-rich vegan foods would be a problem, long term.  Tofu is deeply boring and tastes of nothing.  However much it's been marinated, I've found that I eat the veggies and push the tofu aside.  Dhal is good, but it's stodgy, to me, and I can't eat much of it.  I like beans and chickpeas, but once or twice a week at most.  Just adding an egg makes it all so much easier.  And I'm attempting to help my anaemia by adding red meat, which I'm enjoying, having rarely eaten it for months.  I don't know how I'd replace that iron quickly without supplements.  This is not to be critical of anyone in the least, I just wonder how someone who loves all food and cooking can possibly deal with having so many foods out of bounds.  An allergy forces it on you and a religious or cultural reason, that means you've never eaten a food, means you don't miss what you have never tasted.  

Anyway, I digress.  Zoe, Mike and Scout stayed overnight and we polished off most of the leftovers for lunch, apart from an unseemly amount of rice salad.  Now, I'm going to pretend to watch the Belgium/Iran match and root for Zoe's team.  But let the best team win, hey.

Keats had a point

 I went to an excellent lecture today about Japonisme, the influence of Japan on Europe from the second half of the 19th century onwards.  I already knew a fair bit on the subject, but this lecturer went beyond paintings to textiles, clothes, ceramics, furnishings and so on, which was really interesting.  She also went beyond the usual Impressionists and Post-Impressionists to the early years of the 20th century.  

There are things I used to enthuse about that I don't any more.  I do no gardening at all, for instance.  I haven't even bothered to plant up the tubs outside the house.  Bare earth or what has survived from last year and I don't care.  I'm sad that I don't care, but I can't pretend to.  My love of art, in all forms, has increased, however.  It's most of what I care about - obviously, not including people.  I want to go to art galleries, concerts, see and hear about beauty.  I don't mind at all if it's not, initially, my idea of beauty.  You can appreciate something that you don't necessarily like.  Only by seeing it or listening to it enough times to start to understand it, can you know if you do like it - or if it's any good.  Plenty of fashionable emperors are not wearing any clothes, but some of them are, resplendently.

Z loves getting ready for a party. It makes me very happy.

 I did cook the fish, as well as cabbage, last night.  I still have some of the fish left - when I think that, back in the day, my parents cheerily tucked into a pair of kippers for breakfast or a whole Dover sole for dinner - the sole would overlap the plate at each side, it was enormous.  Now, none of us can manage half as much and I'm not sure when it changed.  I know that we never snacked.  A couple of olives or cheesy biscuits, with an aperitif, perhaps, but no one munched on anything between meals.  But nor do I and I still can't manage a fillet of plaice.  Tim and I often used to share a steak or a big piece of fish.

Today, I have done all I planned to do, remarkably.  I have cooked two gluten and dairy free cakes, ready for Saturday, which will be wrapped up and kept cool.  Everything else is planned and will be done on Friday and Saturday morning.  I'm energised by the anticipation, so not tired unless there's good cause.

Tonight, because the fillet steak I took out of the freezer was actually two, I'm making Boeuf Stroganoff for dinner, to use up the second one (I realise that I won't eat it all, so I'll frugally squirrel one away in the freezer.  I've opened a bottle of very good red wine.  I've been saving it, but who's better to use it on than me?  When I ask people over for dinner, we're all too busy talking and eating to notice what we're drinking, unless it's rather poor, so I might as well savour a glass or two.  Two, frankly.

All the same, I've noticed, over the years, that when a wine is very good, I drink less of it.  I relish and appreciate it, so it's more satisfying.  I've also noticed that it diminishes in quality on the second outing and, by the third day, it could be any decent plonk.  I do have a gizmo that's supposed to remove the air from a bottle, but I've forgotten how to use it.  Ho hum.

I also had trouble removing the innards from my coffee machine to wash it.  I fiddled about with it yesterday, without success, looked for the instructions this morning, also without success and sprayed water around in case something was stuck.  Without success.  Then I found another small moving part and moved it and, hurray.  Success.  The rest was easy, except that I forgot that it has to be reinserted on the huh, so it took a couple of minutes.  Then I made coffee, obviously.

Oh, I made a loaf of bread too.  Such industry.  Now, time for the beef.  I've soaked some rice in preparation, because I'm totally on a roll.  Which has nothing to do with bread.  I'm very tempted to make bread rolls for Saturday, because I'm making pulled pork as one of the dishes, but I hope I'll have more sense, because cooking them will be really fiddly without the Aga.  And, since a heatwave is forecast, I don't want to turn that up.  Also, I'm limited for time.  I'm busy tomorrow and Thursday.  

Z is listening to a blackbird singing in the evening sunshine

 When Weeza was a little girl she would announce, at the end of a busy day, "I'm hungry and I'm thirsty and I'm tired." I thought that at lunchtime today, after more than three hours spent with china.  So I poached two bantam eggs and toasted a slice of bread for lunch and then, having gone too long without food, ate a chunk of cheese too.  I have a sizeable fillet of plaice in the fridge, that I bought from Paul the Fish this morning, but I'm not sure I can be bothered to cook it.  I'm trying to think of something healthy that I want to eat and I happen to have, instead.  It may be simpler to cook the fish.

Most of the time, I'm enthusiastic about cooking, but a few times a year, I become completely bored with it.  This time, it's been sparked by turning the Aga off - it had been far too hot to bear it for a week, then I've resisted any temptation with the memory of the last propane bill, for the fill-up just before the war started, since when prices have rocketed.  I'm making this last as long as possible.  I bowed to the trend for heated blankets in the winter and, in the last chilly days, it has saved me from turning on an electric fire.  I admit also to switching on the electric blanket at night, a couple of times, too.  This, only days after finding a summer duvet far too hot and just sleeping under a sheet.  English weather is endlessly entertaining.  Another heatwave is promised for later in the week.  Bring it on, darlings.  At least we've had plenty of rain.

The bantams are laying enthusiastically.  There are only eight of them, all either four or five years old.  But there were six eggs yesterday and another three today.  I am planning a good many egg-based dishes for Saturday - cakes, mousse and good old egg mayonnaise, at least.  Thank goodness no one is allergic to eggs.  With the obvious exception of vegans, vegetarians and committed meat enthusiasts (because the first two and the last don't fit easily)  I aim to serve food that everyone can eat, not to make anyone feel as if they have to be careful and ask.  Luckily, I can and do eat pretty well anything, but a lot of people can't or choose not to.

Anyway.  As ever, I start to write without knowing where I'll end up.  I'll go and cook that fish.  I've got a blood test booked by the way, for tomorrow.  I had a speedy response from the GP, which is slightly disconcerting.  I know how triage works.

Z's chatty morning

 I went to church this morning - we only have one service a month now, though an informal church group has a meeting every week.  From last month, we've combined forces.  I won't say that the very informal services really suit me - they use the Communion service with their coffee morning style - but it's very friendly and pleasant; just not really going to church.  But never mind that - as I was going in, I saw two friends I haven't seen for ages, literally not for several years.  Phil asked me delicately if I had a partner, it's that long.  He knew I'd married Tim, but not that he'd died, though Chris hastily corrected him.  I don't take any offence, of course.  Better to just ask.

Later, another old friend came and we sat together - she'd come for someone's 80th birthday party; he and his wife taught her at high school and they've been friends ever since - she's now in her early 50s.  After the service, we stayed and chatted for a long time and really connected - we've always liked each other, but we know more about why, now.  We think and react similarly about things - it's not about opinions, which we didn't discuss, but the way our minds work.

On the way out, Chris, Phil and I started talking again.  They've had a fairly rough year, with a major health issue and very aged parental problems.  Again, we just got on and had a very sympathetic conversation.  It was all rather lovely.

I had lots of vegetables for lunch, plus halloumi - I was just using things up out of the fridge.  I'd had steak for dinner last night and liver and onions this evening.  I don't really feel much like cooking and eating, but I need to put myself right.  I also had an afternoon nap rather than catalogue china, and have only done five pieces.  I need to get my arse in gear tomorrow morning.

Countdown to the blog party

 I just faffed around most of the day, not inclined to do anything at all.  I pulled myself together eventually as I really had to do the description of the last few pieces of china from weeks ago.  I picked up another 24 pieces last week, so I need to do them tomorrow.  Then I'll have to do the valuation with D on Monday and then write to the owners.

This leaves Tuesday free to get on with preparations for the blog party, which is a week today.  As usual, it started big and the numbers have diminished, but it'll be lovely to see everyone.  I'm out all Wednesday and Thursday, but we've made the momentous decision to drop our usual Friday morning event, so that I'll have the whole day free.  

I'm pushing myself to eat more.  I get too tired to eat in the evening, but I had steak tonight.  I should have had healthy greens to go with it, but I couldn't face that and added tomatoes and some sweetcorn, because that was the only vegetable in the freezer and I couldn't be bothered to roast the other vegetables I have.  But I ate it all anyway.  Ever since I turned the Aga off, I've not really felt like cooking - I hope that this week's effort will get me started again.  I do make bread every week.  I like my bread very much.  

I called on Rose, who lives in Norwich again, earlier in the week.  She'd originally planned to come on Saturday, but it's her daughter-in-law's birthday celebration, which was on one calendar, and the do here was on the phone diary, so she hadn't realised the clash to start with.  The weather is due to be hot.  That probably means that we will eat indoors.  

One of the excellent qualities of this house is that there's a room to suit any weather.  I move round the house with the sun.  The kitchen and study face east, so they are good in the morning.  The drawing room faces east, but doesn't get so much sun through that window, and west, as does the first dining room.  The bigger dining room faces west and north, though the latter windows are small - it's a darker room, always cool on a hot day.  I'm going to cut the shrubbery back quite a lot, once nesting season is over, because it's gradually grown far too much and isn't very lovely, to be frank.

The other thing I must do is find time to cut back grass in the tortoise run.  All this rain has encouraged it rather too much.  I need to leave them some shade, but there's so much undergrowth that they're discouraged from walking about very much.  It isn't a big job - actually, if I took them out onto the lawn for a while, it wouldn't take much time at all. 

Eh.  I used to write this blog to entertain, but now it's just a journal.  But I'm still here, at any rate.  I'll have a quick look to see if anyone else has written anything before sloping off for another early night (these are a bad habit to have got into, because I sleep and then am awake for hours).

Bloody hell, or blood down the well. Whatevs

 I have been donating blood for a long time.  It quietly matters to me, but I don't want to be thanked for it.  If I can, I should.  

In the past few years, it's been slightly harder - it's just age,  I've cut back from three times a year to two, which seems sensible.  I've also asked my sister to make dinner that evening and to feed the cats that afternoon, since I fainted at the top of the stairs a while ago and woke up at the bottom, luckily without injury.

Anyway, I failed the blood test this afternoon.  106, when they want 125+ and anything under 115 is anaemic.  I know myself and anything under 120 is anaemic.  No idea why it's failed, rather, since January.  I've phoned the GP  practice and, if I don't get blood tests then I'll pay for them.  Not that I care all that much, in one sense, but one has to take responsibility.  

In other news, I normally avoid alcohol and have an early night after a donation.  No obligation about any of that ridiculousness.  Party on, darlings.  

Bird talk

 Eloise cat has just come in through the cat flap.  She had asked to go out a couple of hours ago, via the side door.  She prefers personal service, on the whole.  Not long after she went out, rain bucketed down.  I went to the door and called, in case she was sheltering nearby but, wherever she was, it wasn't close enough for her to brave the downpour - she doesn't mind rain, but this was too much.  Anyway, I don't know where she's been, but she is pretty well dry, as the weather is now.

Nowadays, I get both bored and tired in the evenings.  I often go to bed early, not necessarily to sleep.  I've moved my bed so that I can see out of the west window, where there's a fabulous view of the sunset.  Last night, the clouds were mottled blue and pink, they didn't look real.  Although it's not raining now and the sun has shown its face, I'm not sure there will be a view of a sunset.  I'm still tempted by an early night, though.  

I've changed so much in the past couple of years.  I used to be an owl and now I'm not.  That doesn't make me a lark, however.  I still don't like early mornings.  I have a very narrow useful time band now, which is an awful nuisance.  

I have maintained for some time that feral cats only hunt for food.  They don't bother with anything that's too small to eat.  A couple of days ago, I went to give them their breakfast - there's a large, flat topped chicken coop that isn't used any more and I leave its door open.  On that day, a bird was in there and it panicked, of course, when I turned up.  It was the size and shape of a starling but brown, I suspect a juvenile blackbird.  It flapped at the wire on the other side of the door - and all five cats ignored it.  I was ready to rush forward, but there was no need.  I went round the other side of the coop, so that it would flap away from me and it found the open door.  The cats still took no notice.  I've proved my point, as far as I'm concerned.  Not that I'm saying that cats don't catch songbirds, but feral cats don't bother with anything smaller than a magpie or pigeon and they're welcome to them.

When did birdwatching/twitching become birding?  Is it supposed to sound less dull?  Like playing computer games has become gaming.

Shapes and patterns

 On the way home, I called in at a client's house to pick up porcelain for the next auction (and the one after, as it's more than I can put for one person in one sale).  He'd said that it was already packed in boxes, which pleased me as it would save a lot of time.  When I arrived, I saw the boxes.  They were enormous.  No chance of getting any in the boot.  I put the passenger seat as far forward as possible (two door car) and then tipped it forward and it was very hard for him to get two of them in.  The third went next to me, which was okay except that I couldn't see out of the wing mirror, which one uses a lot on the motorway, so I had to plan changes of lane very carefully.  Then I couldn't get the boxes out, when I arrived home and had to leave them overnight and then unpack the boxes in situ.

I had asked, hopefully, if he had a list.  No.  So I'm having to list them all myself.  To start with, it's all polychrome and there are 22 teapots with covers.  D came over to help unpack.  When I pack anything with a lid, I wrap both items in bubble wrap and then tuck the cover upside-down in the pot.  This hadn't been done.  So we spent some time trying to match up pots with covers, before realising that most of the pieces did have numbers on.  

Anyway, I should have spent a couple of hours typing every day this week.   I didn't.  Partly, this was because I spent Sunday and Monday with my artistic friend and partly because yesterday was hot and sunny and I couldn't be bothered.  Of course, I regretted it today.  I've not quite got halfway through them - I had to write full descriptions, especially of all those teapots and I checked them for damage too.  My eyes were protesting too much by 6.30.  I took vegetable curry out of the freezer and heated it in the microwave for dinner.

This year is the year of the migraine for me.  10 already, including 5 this month and 2 yesterday.  I'm pretty fed up with it.  Can't see things getting less stressful though.

Z goes, Z comes back

From last week... 

I'm in Pembrokeshire at the caravan this week.  It's not been easy to carve out a whole week, but there's no point in coming for much less time.  It's the best part of 400 miles and, including stopping to see friends in Reading on the way, the journey took me nearly 9 hours.  Tim and I used to stop at his house for the night on each leg and I sometimes stay with Publog John, near Leicester, if I go that way, but it gives me more time here if I just keep driving and get here in one day.

The weather is iffy, but one always expects that in Wales.  It rarely rains for the whole day and often rains at night, so I can always do what I want to.  What I'll want to do in the future about the caravan is something I need to think about.  Since I didn't have time to visit at all, last year, this week is a chance to resettle myself.  I'm hoping to come back twice more during the year.  I know it would be much more sensible to give it up.  Sell the caravan and let go of the lease.  I don't know if I'm ready yet.  I can't justify the expense, which has increased considerably, by 15% since last year, but it's somewhere that really matters to me.

However, that's the thought that's mulling away quietly at the back of my mind.  For now, I'm just sleeping a lot and enjoying the peace.  

Luckily, I had the good sense to ask Henry to get the caravan washed outside and the patio cleared of weeds.  Indoors, it's grubby.  I've bought rubber gloves and, this afternoon, I'll spend time washing everywhere.  Unfortunately, I can't persuade the water heater to get going - the spark isn't working.  So I suspect I'll have to get it looked at.  

This week, now I'm home again...

I did have to get the man in, who got the water heater going in no time, but I couldn't have done it myself.  I also have left the caravan very clean, including washing the carpet again, which I did two years ago and haven't dirtied myself.  Friends of friends used it twice (that is, different people each time), which they were welcome to, at no charge, but I think the last people snacked in front of the tv and were pretty casual about dropping greasy snacks.  They were equally casual about not washing the kitchen floor and not bothering to lift the seat when they cleaned the toilet, I discovered.  They don't even know me and it was a free holiday!

I had a really lovely break, all the same.  I slept amazingly well, walked quite a lot, didn't drink much (less than I do at home, that is) and I felt very relaxed.  I called on a friend for lunch on the way home, then stopped to pick up china for the auction.  The two delays meant that I hit traffic on the M25 - not literally, though one reason for slow progress was because of a collision ahead, which meant that two lanes were closed for several miles.  I arrived home about 7.20pm, dead tired, having left the caravan at 9.30.  Wink had dinner ready for me, though I couldn't eat as much as I'd have liked to and then went straight to bed.  

A friend called round for coffee, which turned into lunch too and we had a long chat about all sorts of things, predominately art.  She is an artist, which I'm not but our different, though complementary viewpoints, interested both of us.  It was great to have a fairly deep discussion and I think we both took quite a lot away from it.  It's almost made me want to take up drawing again - and I showed her my drawing of my hand and of the chair, which some of you may remember that I bravely posted, several years ago.

Pride turned up after the fall

 The temperature has dropped considerably since the weekend.  Warm and sunny, now cold enough for me to consider an extra jumper - which I'll go upstairs and get, in a minute.  I miss the Aga, which is switched down to the minimum for the summer.  I could turn it up, but there's really no need, much as I'd like to.  I have dough proving in the kitchen as the children ate all the bread yesterday except for one slice, which I toasted for breakfast this morning.  I was indulgent.  Usually, I have toast and marmite (I have several different breakfasts, this is one of them) but today, I had half the slice with marmite and the rest with marmalade.  I wonder if I'll bother to make marmalade again.  I'm still slowly ploughing my way through the last batch from at least 5 years ago.  I have almost stopped making jams and relishes too, since Tim died, but they keep a long time, so I'm still eating those too.  The only ones I have made have been the tomato relish - not quite a chutney, it's not cooked for so long and can be eaten as soon as it's cooked, it doesn't need to mature in the jar - and the wonderful chilli relish that all the family loves, so I usually give each a jar at Christmastime.  Didn't get around to it last year, it does take a long time to make as the chillis need to be sliced by hand.  But at least I make bread.  I am having an Indian meal tonight, so considered making chapatis or naan bread, but realised they're both much easier in the Aga, so I won't bother.  I haven't cooked rice on the electric rings very often - again, so very easy in the Aga - so that may not happen either.  I realise that a lot of my cooking is done simply so that I can warm up by the cooker.  There just isn't the same incentive in the summer.

A large fly is buzzing round the room, trying to get out of the window.  I've opened a window for it, letting the cold air in, but it ignores it, trying every other window instead.  I know people like that, too.  

I was awake in time for the dawn chorus today (no, I didn't get up, bed was warmer) and, half an hour later, realised that there was just birdsong.  That is, a bird or a few were singing, but not the whole range of them.  I wonder what goes through their heads?  I'd woken earlier too, a while after midnight and, luckily before I went back to sleep, Eloise cat jumped on the bed, or rather, she jumped at it and missed.  I peered from under the bedclothes in time to see her walking out of the room as if that was exactly what she meant to do.  Poor cat, she misjudged the jump in the dark (it's a fairly high bed) and her pride wouldn't let her take a second attempt.  Later, once I was awake for good, she jumped back up (it was light by then) and had a long drink of Buxton water.  She has been drinking so much more, since I started to buy bottled water for her.

I'll go upstairs now and move the chaise longue to the foot of the bed, take a fresh bottle of water for her and get a cardi.  First, I'll close the window, as the officious fly has finally found its way outside.

The lark descending

 Ro and his children came over today.  They are a delight, eat whatever is put in front of them, without being greedy or picky and are always good humoured.  They're a credit to both their parents, who co-parent impeccably, despite their divorce.  

Rufus will be 11 next month.  Perdita was 6 in January.  Within a week, she managed to knock out both her front teeth, which was pretty alarming for Ronan, who was in charge both times.  The first tooth went when she was at school and fell off the climbing frame - or something like that.  When Ro arrived to pick her up, there was a lot of blood.  Second tooth went at his house, when the children were upstairs.  They weren't fighting exactly, it seems that Rufus sneaked up and grabbed her from behind, she swung a fist - and hit herself in the mouth.  Again, blood.  Perdita seemed less upset than he was, but they're all over that now and she's proud of her massive gap.  When they wanted a snack this afternoon, I offered an apple, cut up and she said quite casually that cut up would be good as she can't bite apples.

Anyway, it's now 7.30pm and the wonder is that I'm not exhausted already.  This morning, I woke up around 5.45, though I jolly well didn't get up then.  I'm not giving up my owl identity without a fight. I listened to the dawn chorus and read a book until a reasonable hour, around half past seven.  Even at that, I was ready for mid-morning coffee by 9.  Early mornings are great in theory, but they really mess up the day.

I made lasagne for lunch and, because we'd picked up new-laid eggs, that's what they had for their tea.  Rufus chose a fried egg sandwich and Perdita wanted dippy eggs with toast though, at their father's suggestion, I fried those too so she didn't have to manage an egg cup.  All four eggs had suitably runny yolks and both plates were cleared.  I'd absent-mindedly put butter in a saucepan rather than a frying pan, so I used it to make scrambled eggs for me.  I used rather more butter than I'd normally have, which added nicely to flavour and texture.  It made me think of Swallows and Amazons, where they called scrambled eggs "buttered eggs."  They were.