Bringing on the wall, Day 43 - Part Ridged

Again, a bit of a red-letter day.  It was dull and there was a misty drizzle when we started work, but not so much as to stop us.  It wasn't cold, either, though we didn't bother with the sun cream.

We accomplished what we'd hoped to, which was to finish the lower half of the side to the right of the pillar, and level off the other side.  Next, Dave will be inserting the ornamental bricks and we'll have to decide the final height of the last section - the ground drops away, so if we make it level with the rest, it will, effectively be higher on the outside.  So we may do a step down.  We don't have to decide immediately, but we will have to soon.

We may manage another day's work next week, but that's up to the Sage.  It's the auction on Friday and he has to be well rested, and he'll have a busy week, so it'll be one day at most.   Here are today's wall photos.

This is the section that Dave filled in.

And this is the bit that I did, except that Dave did the last three bricks plus a bit more pillar when I had to hurry off to do Meals on Wheels.

The wall from the kitchen garden side.

During the morning, the Sage heard a partridge cheeping to its young, and found that the mother bird who had raised a brood in my overgrown herb garden in the spring was tenderly caring for another batch of chicks.  I took a couple of photos, but they aren't clear at all, as the birds are so well camouflaged and it's really not worth showing them to you.  However, later on he surprised them just by the wall - the mother hurried into the kitchen garden and called to them to follow her.  The wall was in the way, so several were at a disadvantage.

This little one, if you can spot it, found the shortest way to mum.

This one took the scenic route.  It was listening all the time to the sweet cheeping of its mother.  I thought I'd taken a video of the final dash across the kitchen garden, but in my haste I'd not put the camera on the right setting.  The whole family was reunited in the end, and now they're shut in the veg garden - there's plenty of cover and food for them so they'll be safe there.  I do love to have all our wildlife around, including the snakes and frogs and other creatures I rarely see.  

By the way, if you live around here, the Sage and the mug in the sale

which is this wonderful little darling (sorry, it's the pre-cropped version, so the edge is in there) will be in the E@stern D@1ly Press, the excellent Norfolk and North Suffolk daily paper, tomorrow.  Unless something exciting happens, when it'll be another day.  I assured the photographer that we'd see it whenever, as we take it every day anyway, and he thanked me which was rather sweet.  Amy came to interview him, but I was out then.

I know the mug is cracked and chipped, but it doesn't matter.  So am I, and I'm not 240 years old.  It is delightful and beautifully painted, and there is none other like it.  It's a one-off, specially commissioned.

I spent the later part of the afternoon and the evening baking for the weekend's festival.  I unwisely wore high heels while standing for several hours and now I just want to sit.  However, I'll have to get up early tomorrow to do the icing.  And then there will be scones to make - you have to give something for people with diabetes to eat, so I'll do cheese scones as well as those to eat with jam.  I cater for everyone, as there were a lot of foods my mother was, in her last years, unable to eat.  It made me aware of allergies, intolerances and preferences and I think it's all part of caring for people, that they shouldn't have to feel different just because of something they can't help.

Dave had sausages and pizza for lunch today, by the way.  I am looking after him, you see.

Z phones Dave. Then, Z phones Dave.

It's true, darlings.  So good I phoned him twice.

It happened like this... I'd been out all day and, when I arrived home, the Sage came to the door looking nervous.  "The EDP rang" he said, nervously.  "They want to photograph me with the mug, tomorrow morning."  The Sage is not so averse to free publicity, so I didn't get why he was nervous.  I said encouraging things, and then he mentioned putting Dave off - of course, I was very nice about it.  Let's face it, I always am.  Aren't I?

Oh.

Anyway, I suggested that we might rearrange for the afternoon and so phoned Dave to ask him.  Dave, being a sweetly good-natured and accommodating sort of chap, agreed at once, mentioning also that showers are predicted for the morning.

A few minutes after putting the phone down, it rang again.  The girl from the EDP said that the photographer couldn't make it in the morning after all, how about 1.30?  But they could come here rather than meet in Lowestoft.  The Sage agreed and I phoned Dave back.  Honestly a most patient and adaptable fellow he is, he agreed again to come in the morning after all.

We've had several other publicity requests, all this is a bit odd.  We've always been very low-key.  I have to keep checking the business emails and sending off more photos, one from 2002 when we had a startlingly good sale, which I had forgotten was quite so impressive.

Right, I must go to bed.  I have to be up early in the morning to go and buy Dave's lunch.

Bringing on the wall, Day 42 - Disappointed rabbits

I think that few rabbits would be able to jump the wall now.  So at last, my french beans may be able to start growing.

We didn't do any bricklaying at all last week.  We were all very busy and all spent a lot of time in the sun, and extra mornings with the sun beating down on us were not going to do us any good.  This is still meant to be fun, not a chore.

Today, however, not only did I build the final section up to beyond-rabbit height, but Dave built some of the section next to it to just below the ornamental brick height.

Here's wot I done.

And this is what Dave did.

I seem to remember promising a picture of Dave in his shorts, but I forgot when he was working, so here are the Lovely Legs of Dave, snapped unbeknownst to him, after lunch.

The other picture I took this morning is a pupating ladybird in the greenhouse.  Did you know they are buttercup yellow and spotless when they first emerge?  There were a lot of little pollen beetles in the garden today - Dave got out a ball of yellow string and they landed on it, hoping for food.  They were also all over the pumpkin flowers.  We all put on sun cream with insect repellent, so that we wouldn't be bothered by them ourselves, which mostly seemed to work.

Dave said "surprise me with a fry-up" when I asked him what he'd like for lunch.  So, we had bacon, scrambled eggs, chips, toast, home-grown tomatoes (the eggs were home-grown too, of course) and, as the surprise, fish fingers.  I offered ketchup, but Dave said that his mum didn't let him eat ketchup.

I expect that Dave has noticed that he's getting slightly more interesting lunches this year.  Last summer, it was nearly always bread and cheese.  It's still simple food now, but at least there's a bit more thought going into it.  It is only now that I realise how, for the last year or two, everything was such an effort and now I'm more mobile and out of pain, I've got a lot more energy and enthusiasm.

The comment problem seems to be widespread, but Blogger still haven't referred to it in their 'known issues' page.  There are plenty of complaints in the problem forum, however.  Someone has set up a spreadsheet to gather together details and forward them on.  I'm posting now, just in case there is an outage while the problem is dealt with.  I suspect that Blogger don't know how to put it right at present, as it seems that it has been going on for some time but they're not reacting to complaints.

I am at least receiving comments in my emails - obviously, I don't know if I'm getting all of them - so thank you and I'll post them when I can, if they don't appear automatically (which they have - so I deleted the post of your comments).

whoops

There are lots of complaints/queries on the Blogger forum about comments not appearing - I wouldn't be surprised if Blogger has to go down to rectify this - so if you can't get on to blogs, it's not your computer and it's not censorship, don't worry.

Z receives a query

A good friend has sent me an email, wondering why her recent comments haven't been published.  I've written back apologising, and saying that, simply, I don't know.  I'll make it clear - I have never barred anyone (I don't know how and I don't need to know how) and I've never deleted any comment unless it's clearly spam.  Indeed, I've even left the odd spam if it's amused me.

Sometimes, spam is posted repeatedly on old posts, which is a nuisance for people who've left comments and receive updates, as well as for me, so I do have comment moderation on for posts over 20 days old, and I check it every so often, but not necessarily weekly.  But it's not deleted until I know that it's not from a friend, and I give the benefit of the doubt if there is any.

Indeed, darlings, you can be as rude as you like to me, and I'll take it on the chin and won't be offended.  Like punching jelly it is, insulting me.  For a start, you're probably right, and anyway, it's a free country (ish) and your opinion is as valid as mine.  I'm not so keen when my friends disagree - I mean, disagreement is fine as long as it doesn't get personal, but if you've ever noticed my anxious attempts at peacemaking between friends who are having a spat, you've probably been amused.  I'd aim to peacemake, but I'd still only delete a comment if it were really offensive, and then I'd tell you and explain why.  Swearing is fine, by the way.  Preferably not at someone, however.  That isn't really on, is it?

Anyhoo, back to the Life of Z.  BTW, do you love Life of Pi or wonder why anyone likes it? - such a wonder is only valid if you read it all, I will add.  I lolled.  Okay l(ed)ol, when the boat touched land and it explained everything.

We drove to Kent for lunch a week ago - it was a long and hot drive for lunch, but we had a good time with old friends.  The Sage expansively invited them back when they're in this direction for our sale in -eeek!  - eleven days time.  Should that have an apostrophe?  Probably.  Pfft.

Anyway, the thing is, the room our china, small collection as it is compared to theirs, is in is a room that he has taken over with Stuff.  Honestly, I never go in there.  There's (this is embarrassing) a double bed that was used once, for guests at Weeza's wedding, which was five years ago.  It is now, as I found a while ago, used as a table.  Honestly, my lovely Sage is even more untidy than I am, by a long, long way.

So, I tackled him this evening, asking in the politest way possible how he's getting round this situation.  Truly, no one is going in this room.  Barely me.  So, we have negotiated a solution.  I was so polite and tentative, you wouldn't recognise me.  "I'm not nagging, really".  "No, I know" - I'm so entitled to nag.  But, you know, he's sort of perfect in my eyes.  That is, who wants anyone who's better than they are?

This reminds me of someone - well, sometwo.  A young Indian couple I used to know.  Both lovely.  He was especially delightful and everyone loved him.  I did, everyone did, young and old.  He was totally, genuinely, lovely.  He desperately wanted to marry her - but she held back.  She was besotted too, but she had a practical bent.  "Thing is," she said, "he's perfect.  If we have a row, everyone will side with him.  I can't match up.  He's completely genuine, but he's perfect and I'm not."  It was true.

I knew her family and not his, so I haven't kept in touch.  She married someone else in the end, I do hope he's found someone who adores him as he deserves - which is no criticism of his former girlfriend.  Perfection is hard to live up to.  So, I make sure that the Sage doesn't have to.  Heh. But nor do I.  Which is fine.

If your comments haven't been published, do let me know.  I'm so sorry - it isn't me.  I don't actually know what the problem is, but I'll ask Blogger.

The trouble with writing a post in the morning is, everything happens later in the day

The house and slide combo is no end of a success.  Zerlina is thrilled and spent a long time playing on it.  They all came over here this morning and Phil and the Sage set off to a village near Stansted airport, so a good long way.  Al and family had gone off to a car boot early - probably saw Rog but they don't know each other to say hello.  They got home in good time, because Al had promised to show a friend how to put together his first beehive - he's letting him have his spare colony, too.

Dilly gave us lunch and then Al asked cryptic questions about what I'd read in yesterday's Times.  I'd only read the main part of the paper and I couldn't find what he meant.  He had to show me in the end - if you have it, it's inside the Weekend section, the pull-out called Weekend Food.  There's a section on 70 top local food shops, and Al's is in there - page 13, the first one under Suffolk.  The shops featured are offering £5 off £20 spent with 3 Times vouchers.  This will actually sort of wipe out Al's profit on anyone who does it, but on the other hand the publicity is free.  I suppose the vouchers will be there every day until 16th July.

Weeza and Phil were planning a barbecue for this evening, so suggested that the Sage and I joined them - I had some steak in the fridge for tonight's dinner, so their sausages for two and our steak for two made enough for all.  I picked salad and took a bottle of wine from the fridge too.  As I said, Zerlina was extremely happy with her little house, and played in it while Phil and the Sage put together the rest, then they put the house on the platform, added the stairs and slide and she spent the next couple of hours going up the steps, in and out of the house and down the slide, a big smile on her face.

Weeza just phoned to say that z went straight to sleep and it looks as if Phil is ready for bed too.  I suspect that the Sage won't be far behind.  I've just woken him up - going to sleep at 9.30 at night in your armchair means you'll be awake at 2am.

I spent most of the afternoon proof-reading a 48-page document for the Head.  Actually, I haven't quite finished.  But I'm stopping now anyway because I can't concentrate any longer.

Write early, write often

The decapitation took four hours, yesterday.  Although when it came to it, a lot more brambles lost their heads than thistles.  Yes I know, they were nicely in bud and would have been full of blackberries in a couple of months, but it was starting to become hazardous to come through the gate in the dark.

Weeza and Zerlina are going to spend the morning here, while Phil and the Sage go off to deepest Essex to pick up an edifice - with a platform, with steps up and a slide down, and a playhouse -  which has been bought on eBay for z's birthday.  The Sage and Al built a similar construction a couple of years ago for Squiffany and Pugsley; although the Sage already had the wood for it, some of it was soft wood and he reckons that buying enough hardwood for it would cost at least £200 and the slide was £80 - the equivalent now, new, costs £400 and they got it for less than half that, so it looks good value.  As long as it can be deconstructed, brought back and put together again.  It isn't Zerlina's birthday for another six weeks, but I don't expect they'll wait that long - the summer will be nearly over by then.

Next weekend is the village festival, complete with fête and beer tent.  Well, strictly speaking, beer village hall.  In the church, there will be a photographic competition - actually, Dave should enter that.  There are decent cash prizes.

Z receives an email!!!

Under the circumstances, I do hope that JonnyB (this newfangled "Alex Marsh" nonsense is quite beyond me) will excuse the triple exclamation marks that are his by right of conquest, but if you haven't yet ordered  his book, you don't have to pre-order it any more, because Amazon are posting it Right Now, as I write.

I am going to cut the heads off thistles to celebrate.  With apologies to any goldfinches that are looking forward to eating the seeds.

Z attends a Sports Day

It makes  me realise how much of this job is just turning up and smiling and being interested.  I arrived at school as usual on a Friday, but only three pupils turned up for music, one of whom didn't belong there anyway as the others were all involved in the sports.  So I thought, rather than just slope off home, I'd go and show an interest.  And do you know, five teachers all came up separately to shake my hand and thank me for coming.

It was hot and sunny, but the breeze was refreshing this morning, which one couldn't say this afternoon when the wind turned warm and humid.  This evening, I picked broad beans, courgette and swiss chard and then went to cook dinner - with both Aga lids up and several pans simmering, the kitchen was dreadfully hot and I felt extremely hot and bothered by the time dinner was ready.  Afterwards, Dilly and I walked round the village to put up posters for the festival next Saturday - it was still too warm to refresh but I did cool down to an extent.

We had our first tomato from the garden yesterday, by the way - most of it, at any rate.  A blackbird (I suspect) had sampled it first.  I picked it to eat anyway - I'm not concerned about germs from a tomato shared with a bird.  I've caught a lot more diseases from people than I'm ever likely to get from any other animal.

Pots

Mago is absolutely right - it's so often the earliest examples that show the most care and are particularly beautiful.  Sometimes they are technically excellent too, sometimes not, but that isn't always what matters.

If I were to start again with more knowledge and a better eye, I'd buy early printed books and early Chinese porcelain.  If I were starting again with English china, I'd still go for the 18th century softpaste (or 'artificial') porcelain, but from more than one factory, so as to broaden my knowledge - though not from every factory by any means, because some of them don't do a thing for me.  Mind you, I'm not a collector by nature.  I don't have the need to buy or collect a lot of examples of something.  And, like Mago, I don't take the view that something old and precious is owned - one is simply the custodian for a while.

I've mentioned that I particularly love the earliest Lowestoft.  This doesn't mean that I don't love individual pieces from later in the factory's life (it was a going concern for a little over forty years, which doesn't sound long, but it outlasted many of the early porcelain factories in England), but that there's something about the care and time put into the earliest pieces - it wouldn't have been economically possible to take so long over every piece in the long run.  And the early glaze has a warmth that is very appealing - you might not notice it unless you saw it against a later piece, when it would really stand out.

Something that most collectors of Lowestoft would mention is its charm.  It's a provincial factory and doesn't pretend to be grand, like Chelsea.  The specially commissioned pieces, like the flask that we would have loved to buy which has a scene of shipbuilding painted on it, may be unique or restricted to a single tea service.  The amazing little mug that the Sage will auction in a couple of weeks is a pastoral farming scene (the catalogue can be found by clicking on the 'day job' link to the right).  Lowestoft was a comfortable, assured town with a boatbuilding and a fishing industry, surrounded by farms.  The river gave access to wherries to transport goods and it must have been quite a prosperous place in those days, and the comfortable middle classes bought fashionable china, locally made, much of it in the Chinese style but sometimes with typically English scenes, and often specially commissioned to one's own requirement.

Part of its charm is in the imperfections.  A saucer may well be slightly out of round.  An inscription (I think more Lowestoft was inscribed than any other factory, often with a name, sometimes a date too, sometimes the name of a place ("A Trifle from Lowestoft" - or another nearby town - showed a burgeoning tourist trade) might be inside a cartouche that wasn't quite big enough, so the last two or three letters are squashed together.  We've even got a mug with a large semicircular chunk out of part of the handly, glazed over in the factory and sold anyway - "that still work, dunt it?" and "thass all right" - you can still imagine that being said in Lowestoft.  Damage is less regarded as a handicap to value in Lowestoft than in any other factory (not English Delft [tin-glazed earthenware], however, where the glaze almost always chips round the edge - what do you expect in something more than 200 years old?  It wasn't necessarily perfect to start with.  If it's appealing, then the odd chip or crack only adds to its individuality.

Anyway, it's promising that the Sage likes this sort of china.  It means that, the older and more cracked I become, the more he likes me.

The Sage is outbid

He did bid for the flask, and was prepared to splurge - but it went way outside our price range, selling for £24,000 (hammer price, it pushes £30,000 with premium and VAT) , which has to be a record price.  I'm just glad to have had the chance to hold and admire it.  Remarkably, it was bought by a London dealer.

The Sage did buy one item, which went within its estimate.  A lot of pieces went way above.  Way.

I've had a really busy day, looking after Zerlina all morning and then meetings in overwarm room in the afternoon and evening, and now I can hardly get my sboes on.  I'm off for a cool bath and an early night - sorry darlings, I'm short-changing you.  And the Sage is tired too, as the train was delayed by a signal failure.  We've had to put off Dave, with apologies, from bricklaying tomorrow.

Goodnight.

The Sage is happy

It's been a medical day today.  I went for my routine mammogram and the Sage went for his routine discussion with our doctor, having had the 24-hour blood pressure monitor last week.  I assume all's well with me - nothing on the photo made us go 'eek' but I'll hear in a couple of weeks, and all is well with the Sage.  I have not raised his blood pressure to eruption point yet.

I fetched Pugsley and Squiffany and brought them home.  Pugsley had a haircut the other day, having robustly refused one before - his mother was reduced to snipping off bits and he always looked a bit homespun.  However, he has reached the age of reason and visited the hairdresser at last.  As a result, he isn't always uncomfortably hot, so he was cheerful and calm, even when his ice lolly dripped.

The Sage was gone for ages.  A couple of hours.  He looked ever so cheerful when he got home and kissed me.  Yes, darlings, I know.  Then he produced from his pocket ... his diary.  A nice person, probably a cleaner, had handed it in and he received a phone call to say so, and had hot-wheeled it over to Norwich station.

After a brief and gentle shower, it's been another very hot day.  I do not complain.  I like it, and even those who long for shade would, most of them, grumble more if the weather was chilly.  One has to remember that 'not too hot' means 'too cold' or 'too wet and windy' or something equally undesirable.  I think this weather is delightful, because it's so rare for more than the odd day.

I took photos of vegetables - that is, botanically fruit but that's being a bit silly.  Peppers, courgettes, swiss chard and peas.  We ate some of the courgettes this evening.

Oh - and, as last year, the outdoor tomatoes are going to be ready earlier than the greenhouse ones. Next year, I must try more bush varieties.

The funny thing is that I didn't actually grow any yellow courgettes this year.  I grew Defender and Romanesco, both green.  Yet I have a plant with yellow fruit.  I don't mind at all, but odd it is.

Z enthuses

Right, this is the sale we went to view yesterday.  Although we looked at everything, our interest is mainly Lowestoft and so those pieces, from 118 to 151, were the ones we handled.

One of the great things about an auction view is that you can ask to see and handle anything.  I don't know if it's so free and easy when delicate objects are worth hundreds of thousands, but at the less rarefied range of prices, you'll either be handed the pieces individually or a cabinet will be unlocked and, though porters are keeping an eye open, you'll be left to get on with it.  At our sales, the people viewing sit down at tables, but here there were upright cabinets and you stand and hold the piece, which is a bit nerve-wracking.

Anyway, if this doesn't interest you, just skip the whole post as I'm afraid it means opening the link in another window and looking at the pieces concerned and you may have neither time nor inclination - on the other hand, you may so I'll go ahead.

 The piece that I really couldn't put down was no. 139, which is wonderful.  Beautifully painted by someone who knew his subject - he'd spent a lot of time in a shipyard or at sea, because you can see that the rigging is right.  If I thought it would go for its estimate, I'd buy it (20% premium plus VAT on the premium is a bit of a pill) but it'll go for more.  We discussed the possible price - our friend thought 13, the Sage thinks 15, but I think it could go for a bid or two more.  But at £16 thousand bid, it's nearly 20 out of the saleroom, which ... well, it makes my hip look jolly cheap.  On the other hand, when you consider the vast sums paid for some items, old and new - well, who's to say?  I'd not pay £20,000 for a car, but plenty would.  And a million pounds seems to go nowhere in some circles.

Anyway, my second favourite is 124, which is beautifully painted.  For something so small, there's an awful lot on it.  It's also incredibly rare - there is supposed to be another one, in polychrome, but no one knows where it is (except its owner, of course) and no other blue and white one is recorded.

Then there was a fabulous pair of tea canisters at 132.  I love to think that they have been treasured together for 250 years, because they are certainly a matching pair.

We're not thinking of bidding for either of those lots either, by the way.

I love the early pieces - 1757 to the early 1760s.  There's a quality to the glaze and a care, but also a freedom, in the painting before the patterns became more standardised, that I really enjoy.  And there were many pieces in that category.  With such treasures to enjoy, one look wasn't enough and nor was the second.  So the Sage and I didn't go to the V&A after all.  We left after a first look, for lunch, then went back, left again for tea and then went back to the invited view, finally scuttling off to catch our train home soon after 7 o'clock.

Z and the Sage go to a Private View

We've had a very jolly day in London, except that disaster struck for the Sage when he left his diary on the train. He put it in his pocket but it must have dropped out. We'll ask at Lost Property of course but hopes are not high.
Otherwise (in an "apart from that, Mrs Lincoln..." way), the day has been splendid. When I'm home, I'll put up a link to the sale and tell you the pieces I covet most - some of the most expensive, of course.

We viewed the sale and then beetled off for a while for startlingly expensive drinks and then returned for the invitees-only view, where I was plied with much wine and delicious canapés and chatted to charming people. The Sage will return on Wednesday for the sale.

You may receive more information when I arrive home, but doing the watering and stuff may take too much time.

Sadly, I ordered the last two hot bacon rolls on the train, leaving none for the tanked-up chap on his way home from Monaco. He told me the chocolate muffin wasn't all that. Actually, it was quite toothsome.

Laters, darlings. Possibly.

Z notices the time

Oh dear, it's nearly Monday already.  The Sage and I are going to London, as I think I said - we'll be viewing the sale at Bonhams and, as we unexpectedly have time in hand, he wants to go to the V&A as well.  That sounds all right to me, and we can have a jolly day together.

That's quite unusual in fact - not that we're jolly or together, but both at the same time, and on an outing to boot.

We had another outing today, as it happens - we visited friends near London for lunch.  The other side of London - it was a 240 mile round trip, which seems a long way for lunch, but we had a splendid time.  Our friends were on great form - they're in their 80s, although you'd never think it to see or listen to them.

I've only just finished work and there are more things to do, but I've run out of time.  I need sleep.

Bringing on the wall, Day 41 - the beginning of the end

It was a momentous day.  Dave started on the final pillar and I filled up the gap - so at last we've laid bricks the entire length of the wall.  It was another beautifully hot and sunny day - just the weather we had hoped for last year and didn't get but, although we're out in full sun for two or three hours, we haven't had any problem with headaches or sunburn.  Of course we slap on the sun cream and drink plenty of water.

We had cleared away all the pots and weeds and general *stuff* from both sides yesterday, so we had a clear run.  We both worked kneeling down, so there were some twinges of pain, especially for Dave, whose back doesn't really like to be bent over, but at least it gets better as you build up.

Dave had dropped casually approving mention of toasted cheese the other day, so that's what we had for lunch, with bacon.  The bantams loved it.  Dave gave away his bacon rind and the lucky recipient grabbed it and ran, followed by two other hens.  A couple of minutes later she reappeared, bacon still hanging from her beak, with one bird still chasing her, but she successfully outran her and disappeared into the bushes to eat her trophy.

This afternoon, I'm putting my feet up for a bit with the papers.  I've a stern letter to write later, but suspect I'll write the vitriolic version first and then calm it down to a more measured one.  More effective, usually, even if it doesn't quite relieve the feelings so much.

Does Z feel lucky?

It seems to be a good year for partridges, I never remember seeing so many.  As I've mentioned, we had a nestful in the kitchen garden this year and I've frequently seen the parents - well, we may have more than one pair in the garden - anyway, I saw the male bird again yesterday.  I was going to pick Pugsley up from nursery and, just after turning onto the A143, I saw a female partridge with chicks, trying to cross the road. A car was coming the other way and she hesitated in front of me, so I stopped and checked the mirror.  A car was about 500 yards away, so I put on my hazard warning lights and got out.  She had time to cross if she hurried, but she was anxious, and then I saw several more chicks emerge from the grass.  Fortunately, she turned back and they all disappeared into the grass.  Ten minutes later, having picked up Pugsley, another hen bird was ambling along the side of the B road.

I still haven't had to cut the lawn this year, as the bantams and rabbits are keeping the grass low.  It's a bit weedy and I need to do some cutting back at the edges, and there are hollows where the chickens dust-bathe.  'Patch of unkempt grass' suits it rather better than 'lawn', if I'm honest.

I arrived at school this morning and the music teacher greeted me.  "I passed you on the hill", she said.  "You looked exhausted."  It's true, I can't do hills at all.  It's only laziness that stops me getting off and pushing.  She brings her children to the village school on a Friday and would give me a lift, but then I'd have to walk home and that is more effort than the bike, especially as then I'd have to carry my shopping.  Anyway, as I explained, I'm supposed to take plenty of exercise (I think that cycling a couple of miles is 'plenty') and the only way that it'll happen is by going places on my bike.  It's hard to find time for it though, I could have done with the extra quarter of an hour this morning.  I certainly wouldn't do anything just for the exercise - finding time to go to the gym or the swimming pool for example, and I'm not the sportiest of people.  I don't mind watching other people play though.

The latest sale catalogue is online, by the way - link on the side.  The mug, Lot 77, is fabulous, cracked and chipped as it is.  But it's a one-off, the painting is delicate and beautiful and I don't mind the damage at all.

Oh, by the way, when moving stuff in the kitchen garden this afternoon, we uncovered a toad.  He was beautiful.  I picked him up so that the brown bantam, who had just made short work of three large slugs, would not bother him, and gave him a new home among the artichokes.  One artichoke is ready to cut, by the way - but only one.  I wonder who will be the lucky person who eats it?  Hmm.

Wild Front Ear

Today has been unexpectedly enjoyable. I'm still plugging away, slowly tidying up the grungy bits of the vegetable garden - I should mention that no other part of the garden has been touched. I've done some hedge cutting, but that's all and the weeds are flowering nicely at the front of the house. This morning, another cow was brought, two of the four having been taken back to the farm last week, as their calves are due before long. The farmer used to take them a few days before their due dates, but he takes them earlier now as the upheaval of a move can start them into labour if it's done late. The Sage went out to lend a hand, as some pruned branches from a pine tree were in front of the gate. The phone rang and I went to check if he could take the call. I saw the men with a friskily dancing cow and told the caller that he'd phone back.

"She'll soon settle down," he assured me, when he returned. "Just pleased to be here. She's number 99 and her name is Davy Crockett."

Later, he called to me to come and see this.

When the truck came for the cows last week, the sit-on mower that the Sage had parked in front of the gate (I know, he does rather block gates) was in the way so they moved it, and the chicken hastily moved too.  She was sitting on three old eggs - the Sage always leaves at least one egg where hens are laying as then they go back there - if you remove them all, they find another place to lay and it then has to be searched for.  He marks these eggs with a black cross so that they aren't accidentally brought into the kitchen for use.

So, Johnny was careful not to drive over the eggs and the mower was then put back in place, and the Sage thought no more about it.  But then he found her a few yards away, under a tree - sitting on those same marked eggs.  She must have carefully rolled them into a new and safer place.  I took one out to photograph - a couple of seconds after I took the picture, she nudged it back under her.

The next thing I had to do was deliver Meals on Wheels.  I'd been sent some questionnaires for the old people to fill in, so I took them round and explained and offered to come back to help.  One couple took me up on the offer, so I returned later and sat down in the kitchen with the wife.  She said that, though she can see well enough to get about, she can't read any more.  It turned out to be unexpectedly heart-warming.  She is completely happy with her life.  She is 88, her husband is 92, their daughter lives opposite and spends half a day every week thoroughly cleaning the bungalow and doing any ironing or anything, and she does all the shopping.  A grandson visits from Norwich every week and her sister phones every morning, and she phones back every evening.  She can manage all the cooking and general tidying, she loves her garden - there is no improvement she can think of to want, and nothing she would change.  Her pretty face beamed as she described it all to me.  The meals we deliver are just what she likes and the quantity and price are right too.

And this evening, I went to the school to look at the exhibition of A Level art and technology.  It was superb.  I was genuinely impressed - I'm very unartistic, but I am reasonably knowledgeable and interested, and there was some really good work there.  Furthermore, there was an air of confidence and enthusiasm about the work that was lovely to feel.  The department staff were there, offering drinks, canapés and a greeting and were obviously proud of their students.

Call me a sentimental old bat and I won't argue, but it's been a good day,

Z has a system, it's just that no one else understands it

It's not that it's particularly interesting, and of course my shadow is in the way, but here it is anyway.

There are several advantages in Blogger Beta - particularly regarding photos, as you can upload as many as you like at one time, instead of being restricted to five, and you can then place them in the order and where you wish, instead of them all being put at the top together in random order, whence you have to cut'n'paste where you want them. However, you can't type while you wait for them to upload and, it seems, you can no longer post a video.

Today, I woke up with the vague realisation that I had received an appointment several weeks ago which I hadn't written down, and I had a feeling it was for today. So I went and looked for the letter - which, since it was for "received, not dealt with, leave it where it will not get forgotten" should have been on my desk. It wasn't. So I looked on the printer "received, in hand, not fully dealt with" and on the table "information to be acted upon but with no particular urgency. I peered into the box of files, which includes "received, dealt with, to be filed for future reference" as well as "filed for future referemce".

Finally, I found it. "On the floor where Zerlina had knocked it off the desk yesterday."

Anyway, it turned out that the appointment is not for today, but for next Monday, so I was in time to phone and change it, because next Monday, the Sage and I will be in London ( I know, darlings, a Rare Outing Together). So it's now rebooked for Tuesday - which means that I won't be able to *forget* it and not bother to go, because it's one of those boring and mildly painful routine health exams that one expects to show nothing at all: in short, a mammogram. I had one a few years ago and was greeted with enthusiasm, slightly startlingly so until I realised that I was the only person in the quarter hour or so that I was there, who had actually shown up.

It's a funny thing, isn't it? How many countries would people be thrilled at the thought of free* health exams, and we take them so much for granted that we don't either bother to go or cancel appointments sent to us. The Sage, in fact, is wearing a blood pressure monitor today - once a year, he has it for a day and quite tedious it is, too, whirring and buzzing every few minutes as it does its check. But again, one has to assume that it's worth it, for the possibility for showing up a potential problem.

*at the point of use

Bringing on the wall, Day 40 - some like it hot

It was, at last, exactly the weather we hoped for when we started this whole malarkey.  Sunny, hot, but not unbearable heat as there was enough freshness in the air to make it a pleasure to be outside.  I'd gone out early in fact as I'm still not sleeping much - most annoying to wake, seemingly refreshed, before 5 am when I have only been asleep since 12.30 or so.  Anyway, I'd done some more planting and was doing the watering when Dave arrived.

We're not rabbit-proof yet, but may be after Saturday.  Dave is carrying on with the central pillar and I'm working on the bottom courses.  Weeza and Zerlina arrived during the morning, so I finished early, but Dave did a lot of work.

Ignore the weeds, I do.

The brown hen came in the garden, having been invited in, and followed me around, looking for small creatures to eat.

I did a short movie of her, but I can't find out how to post it.  Blogger Beta doesn't seem to give an option for it - unless anyone can tell me different, of course.  In 'help' it says there is, but although it was there in the original Blogger options, which I can't remember how to return to, it isn't now.

Life in the kitchen garden

I spent much of yesterday afternoon and evening sorting out the greenhouse.  There were various plants that had neither been sold nor planted and needed to be put on the compost heap or planted out, there were other plants that had to be put in their final pots and there were a lot of weeds.  It was too warm to work in there continuously and, when I came out for a breather, I surprised a very small bunny frolicking among the artichokes.  It scampered away and vanished over the wall - no, don't be like that, not the fully-built part but the bit where there are only the foundations.  We put some wire the other side but a small rabbit could get underneath that.

The Sage was out, so I left it, because it wasn't a one-person job to block the way, and when he did return, we found that the rabbit was back.  It was a dear little bunny and we really didn't want to shoot it, our fortitude in that direction has been tested to its limits this year.  So we separated and drove it gradually in the direction we wanted it to go.  There are various bricks and suchlike around and, looking at the bunny, I didn't look where I was going, so I've now got rather a lot of bruises and grazes.  We did the job however, the rabbit left the garden and we've thoroughly blocked the way it came in.  It won't be a problem in another week or two when the wall has been built up a few more courses.

Today, we spent some time clearing a badly overgrown bed that used to be my herb garden.  It's choked with tansy and nettles, mostly.  It had also, being thoroughly out of hand, been used to dump canes and pots and things...the worst of the clearance has been done, but I have to take everything down from stumps to ground level and then cover it with old carpet and leave it for a couple of years to kill the weeds.  But we did find, under a winter savoury bush, a partridge nest, with eight hatched and two addled eggs.  There had been a pair of French partridges in the garden and Dilly saw the mother with newly-hatched chicks a few weeks ago.

When I went for a rake to clear the cut weeds, I found the friendly brown bantam in the new bed by the wall, keenly scratching for insects.  The entrance, while awaiting its gate, is normally blocked off but I've been using it so had left it open and she didn't need a formal invitation.  I left her, she was doing no harm - later, she moved round near where I was raking, so I dug up a patch of ground for her to rootle in.  She was asked to leave for her supper later on, which she did reluctantly.  She was a perfect guest and will be invited in future.

I haven't finished planting out the bed, but a couple more goes should do it.  I might get out early tomorrow morning.  The greenhouse is looking good though.  The front field was cut yesterday and baled at once - it wasn't a very good crop but not as bad as we'd expected - anyway, it was very dry so whether it'll end up as hay or haylage, I don't know.  I'm going to go along and glean the bits left to use as mulch in the greenhouse.

Which reminds me, I took a picture of the first cucumber in full flower yesterday.  Here it is - as ever, you are first in my thoughts so I'm sharing it with you.

I'll share the cucumber too, if you happen to be here when it is cut.

Yes indeed, it is small.  But it will grow quickly.  As you see, the present mulch is newspaper, which is working fine.  But dried grass will be more attractive and smell nice and, like the paper, it will soak up water and let it out again, thus keeping up humidity levels.

Yes, I know that tomatoes are happy with a drier atmosphere.  But, for this year at least, I can only cope with one greenhouse at a time.  So the tomatoes will have to compromise.

Interestingly, there is a shade of colour on some of the outside tomatoes, the bush variety named Maskotka.  I kept them indoors until June and then put them out in pots - last year they cropped before any of the greenhouse varieties, too.  Maybe I should try keeping a plant or two indoors for a really early crop.  I sowed all the seeds of my nine varieties in March.

Longest day

Sorry about yesterday, I didn't remember to post until I was nearly asleep.  But I had to tell you about the honey.  And here are a couple of pictures.

As you see, Al is starting off in the simplest way, cutting the honeycomb into a bowl, melting it over warm water, letting the wax rise and then lifting it off and then rewarming and filtering the honey.  There's all sorts of equipment he can buy, a centrifuge and so on, but this will do him for now.  He says that this amount at a time is very simple and manageable and a lot less messy than he expected.

Nothing else to write about now, apart from biking into town to go to the bank and get some vegetables, nothing's happened here.

Oh, by the way, today is the last day of the English asparagus picking season, so if you want some, hot-foot it to the shops to get it, right now.

A long day

Particularly as I didn't make use of any part of the night for sleeping. And now it'll hardly be dark at all, I wonder if I'll sleep tonight either. Anyway, I didn't waste the time, I spent several hours writing a complicated letter, which saved time today. Or, actually, yesterday, now I notice the time. Anyway, I'm in bed.

The Sage was particularly pleased with his Father's Day present from Al: the very first jar of honey from his bees. He was awfully touched that Al gave it to him. All this swarming that went on earlier in the summer has turned out to be a bonus, for there is quite a demand for queen bees with a starter colony of workers and they are quite valuable. Al has had several enquiries and has sold two. At this rate, it'll only be another five years or so before he recoups his outlay on hives and equipment.

I'm all right now, thank you, though

I've had a lazy day imposed on me by a bad headache, so nothing much has happened.  I went back to bed after half an hour up this morning, slept the morning away and then came back down again, feeling a bit better, because I'd promised to look after the children for Dilly.  However, I couldn't do anything much, so fetched them some food and reclined on the sofa with them watching television.  I know,  terrible granny.  We watched Horrid Henry, Ooglies, Shaun the Sheep and Scooby Doo.   I remember vastly preferring cartoons to educational children's programmes such as Blue Peter when I was a child, so I have no bad conscience about it at all.  That is, it didn't stop me reading or playing outside or doing other things, and I mostly avoided having friends anyway and lived nearly a mile from any children I did know, so wouldn't have seen them anyway.

Dilly was going with her sister Dala (I'm going to forget what I've called her sisters; let it suffice that Dilly is the oldest of three and they all have the same initials) to order Dala's wedding cake.  She entered a competition in the local newspaper and won £300-worth of cake.  So she booked an appointment and asked Dilly to go along as a back-up.  She wasn't at all sure that it wasn't one of these things where you get a voucher that commits you to a big additional payout.

They found that this lady does the cakes from her home, which is full of accessories and decorations in every drawer and cupboard.  She was delightful and enthusiastic and showed them everything, and then they started to design this cake on the computer.  It became beautiful and elaborate and lots of things were discussed, but price was never mentioned.  In the end, D & D just relaxed and went along with it and had fun.  Finally, they agreed on a three-tier cake and then she checked the price.  "Oh dear," she said. "It comes to £311.  Oh well, never mind, we'll call it £300."  Delivery is included, a distance of more than 20 miles.

So, not everything is a scam and some offers aren't too good to be true.

Anyway, about Dilly and her sisters - it so happened that their parents have the same initial letters, so they thought it would be rather jolly to use them for their children too.  Of course, this meant that all three daughters' correspondence arrived addressed to 'Miss D L Surname'.  "Wasn't this a nuisance?" I asked Dilly once. "You never knew who should open the letters."  "Not to me," she replied. "I was the eldest, so I assumed that all letters were addressed to me."

Z embraces the vuvuzela

Yes, really.  I've come to get the fact that those who are moaning are, let's face it, grumpy old darlings and so I've gone the other way.  I don't mind in the least being old and I love being part of the grey community (though I'm only a little bit grey, and only on my head at that) but I'm not going to be grumpy or complain about the "youth of today" or anything like that.  So, I've listened to vuvuzelas until they embody the spirit of jollity.  Wonderfully, with my change in attitude, they don't even give me a headache any longer.  So I've switched on tonight's match.  I wish they had had the Algerian team introduce themselves as the English did though - I am completely non-partisan in these matters and appreciative of Good Play.

A terrific music lesson this morning.  I had to leave a bit early in fact, as I had a meeting with the Head, but the first part of the lesson was playing djembe drums and the class ended up playing two different tricky rhythms (one in 3/4 and one in 4/4) simultaneously, really well.  And then they added the agogo bells and it sounded wonderful.  They really concentrated - at this stage, three bars in one rhythm and the fourth in another - and no one made any mistakes or played up and I, not playing at this time (sometimes I do join in but it seemed mean to take away a drum!), applauded enthusiastically at the end.

Anyway, darlings, I'd hate to take you away from the football, so I'll let you go.  Have a lovely evening, and please do something entirely frivolous.

Bringing on the wall, Day 39 - Pillar of Dave

Dave brought along his camera, with its wide-angled lens, to take a picture of the whole length of the completed wall.

Today, I didn't add much to the next section.  I was putting in some plants, a mixture of flowers and veggies.  A work in progress, as you see - and, although some of them are perennials, they will be taken out in the autumn, even those that are to be put back in the same place, because the whole bed needs to be thoroughly manured and, so far, I'm just putting in a few spadesful under each plant.

I've just realised that the pic is on the huh.  My photos are always on the huh, I don't do straight.  It's not the wall, which is totally upright.

These are the few bricks that I did lay, and you'll see that (it being a joining-up section) even if I can't do upright, I can do level.

Dave, of course, is both upright and on the level.  He laid a few more bricks, but I was slaving in the kitchen by then and, as I went out after lunch, I didn't take a picture of the finished section.  I'll do it in the next few days, before our next work morning.

This afternoon, I went with Weeza, Al, Squiffany and Pugsley to the theatre, to a production of Snow White on ice.  A mixture of ballet, skating and acrobatics, it was both remarkable and very enjoyable.  Dilly was working today so couldn't come (not to waste the ticket, Al shut up shop early and joined us) and so she is going tomorrow with her sister Deepa.

Afterwards, we scooped up Ro and all went out for a meal.  So the Sage had a double treat - a peaceful afternoon and dinner out.  He thanks you for your birthday wishes.  Now, I shall join him in bed for a cuddle before sleep.

All them phootoos is on the huh*, I've just noticed.  Heh.

*As we say in Norfolk

Second Post

That's what happens, you see, when I write early.  Vote early, vote often, as the saying goes.

Actually, "as the saying goes" (pronounced 'goos' or even 'goo') is, itself, a saying around here; amongst the older residents, that is.  Usually attached to something that isn't a saying at all.

Anyway, what I have returned to say is that I've just got back from a parents' evening at the school and my lovely Sage has cooked me my dinner.  I feel most awfully cherished.

It was the parents of the new pupils for September, and I spent an hour and a half bobbing up to strangers and engaging them in conversation.  A couple of other governors were there too, doing the same thing and at one point we all chatted together for a few minutes.  One of them said that she was never quite sure about volunteering to come in for things, she didn't want to be intrusive.  I said I knew how she feels - "I don't come over as diffident, but I have to make an effort not to be," I said.  She told me that I don't come over as diffident at all.

I know I don't.  I don't here, do I?  I'm confident and can talk a bit too much and have social skills and am not at all reticent.  Well, I'm not saying it's put on, and I'm not saying that I'm shy, because actually, people who are really pretty brash and then say, coyly, "of course, underneath it all, I'm terribly shy" really quite piss me off, because I've been shy and I couldn't possibly have done it then - and I like being outgoing better than I liked my many introverted years, and I don't mind that I'm laying myself open to judgement because it's a sign that I'm not afraid to be humble (a lot of shyness is actually pride, or at least it was with me) - however, it does mean that I have to be sure and do it constantly, or else it looks as if I don't care or am uninterested.  When, in fact, I'm not quite confident that it's appropriate for me to leap in and ask.

I'm getting better at it.  I really do try very hard.

Anyway, tomorrow is the Sage's birthday, and he will be 74.  He doesn't think of himself as ageing at all, and nor do I - that is, I know he is but he isn't to me.  He's just the same as ever, and I love him as much as ever.  His kindness and care when I was getting over my operation was, yet again, a revelation to me - after all these years, he can still surprise me.  And, after all these years, one can still be surprised to fall in love all over again, with the same person - even if you've loved him all along.  Which is rather more convenient than falling for someone else, of course.

Z is a bit frustrated

So many websites are designed the wrong way round - that is, not from the point of view of the user.  In my case, I don't want to have to click through a lot of pages of things I don't want, I want to put in what I do want and have only things that apply come up.

So, the first things they ask are, contract or pay as you go.  That's fine, and so is maximum and minimum price.  But then, what matters to me is what I get, not what make of phone or network - that is, there may be some I don't want, but I don't want to be restricted to being shown only one.  But I'm not offered that, it's one or all.   And I'd like to say from the outset whether calls, text or internet are most important, so that then I can be shown a range of options, starting with the ones that are most likely to interest me.  Instead, I get lots of pictures of phones and then have to look at any one I like to find out what tariffs are associated with it, then save it for comparison.  If, instead, I could just cross off the ones that aren't suitable, it would be much simpler.

The Sage is far more dextrous than I am, far better at fiddly jobs, except when it comes to phones or computers, when they have to be idiot-proof.  So he'll have to be able to have a go and see if he can use it, so we'll have to go shopping together.  I can't see that happening today.  Or tomorrow.  I was free this morning when he wasn't and I'm not free this afternoon.  And tomorrow's not possible at all.

I suppose I should have started all this earlier.

By the way, how come no one has disagreed with the odd expression that *we* are all "addicted to oil".  Surely we're simply dependent on it?

I thought I might try to get involved with the football.  Not that I mind in the least who wins the World Cup - I'm not being snooty about it, but I find it more interesting to see who plays well and has the most appealing players, rather than what country they come from.  But it's giving me a headache.  I haven't managed to sit through a match yet.  I suppose I should be glad to have more time to research phones.  I understand that the television networks are looking into an option to block the sound of the vuvuzelas, which would mean I have no excuse to ignore the coverage any more.

Hawk from a Harnser

I'm not sure if I've mentioned yet that it's the Sage's birthday this week.  No, of course I haven't bought him a present yet, what do you take me for?  One of those sorted people or something?  I'm going to get him a new mobile phone.  I know, a bit dull - but honestly, he's not easy to buy for.  I struck lucky last year, when I had the genius idea of a little collector's cabinet for his vestas (matchboxes, not scooters or anything Roman or waspish) and was able to buy a dear little one on eBay.  He really likes my phone but - and I'm not being rude or anything, honestly - it would be wasted on him.  I mean, the purpose of an iPhone is only slightly to make phone calls.  And that's all he wants to do, he doesn't even want to take photos or send texts, on a phone that's simple enough even for him or me to use.

Anyway, his birthday - it's not a particularly milestone sort of age, except that, at last, the Sage will have been married for half his life; in terms of years, that is.  And in September, I'll have been married for two-thirds of mine.

App of the day - Speed Anatomy, which is highly entertaining, especially when you find how little you know.  Rather splendidly, it's just a quiz, which doesn't give you the opportunity to actually bone up on the answers first, so you have to try to remember the bits you're clueless about next time.  There's a lite version to try first.  I like it so much that, having mostly mastered it (v hazy on the brain, which won't surprise you) I've just bought the Speed Bones too, though I can't yet get through the parts of the vertebrae.  In fact, I'm not sure how I'll ever learn them.  It was hard enough learning to tell an axis from an atlas (in bone terms, darlings) without the Transverse Foramen from the Anterior Arch.  But I daresay I'll have a lot of fun trying.

Roll your sleeves up and participate

I know you're all pacing the floor, unable to relax until you know that the Sage is safely home with me - well, he is, so you can.  I cut the lilac hedge, it having finished flowering (isn't that just begging to be translated into Latin?) and mused that I might finally be starting to grow up, because I gathered up all the cuttings into the big green wheelbarrow instead of leaving them to the fairies.  Having done that, I swept the part of the drive where the cutting had been done, which was even more remarkable.  Truth to tell, I only did that to check whether the Sage would notice the job had been done, because he had been going to ask Friend with a Chainsaw.  He did notice, of course.  He's so observant.  It might not seem remarkable to you, that a hedge cut back by 12 or 18 inches is noticed, but I'd not see it, possibly not for a week or two.

Tomorrow, I'm going to a lecture about Stanley Spencer - in preparation for this (I know, darlings, you think that I'm ever spontaneous, but you may be surprised) I visited Cookham last week to see his paintings in his home town.  And, indeed, the home town too.  I have to remember to get there early as the AGM comes first.  I shall be happy to sit, mostly anonymously, in the audience and not on the stage giving a proper actual-factual written speech, which I'd done for four years.  Not a continual four year span, you understand, but ten minutes at a time, four times, annually.  I have agreed to propose a proposal, but it only involves raising my hand at the appropriate time.

Afterwards, Weeza has promised to help friends with the organisation of their house-move, so she's leaving Zerlina with us again for the afternoon.  Tilly will be very happy.   What's nice is that the happiness lasts, she has been very cheerful and affectionate all day today.  Her sight and hearing are so much poorer in the last few months that she can tend to withdraw into herself.

The title of the post has nothing to do with the post, except that I've just read it on Roses' blog.  And it encapsulates the art of life.  That's what life is for, darlings.  As Weeza, with her London Ways, would say, JFDI.

Happy families

The Sage and I spent some time missing each other's phone calls last night, and I found another slightly edgily affectionate message again this afternoon.  I phoned his mobile, which wasn't answered, and then tried Wink's number and, sure enough, the Sage picked up.  So we billed and cooed for a while, I explained why I hadn't been about when he rang and he explained that he hadn't meant to leave his phone in his Gladstone bag where he couldn't hear it, and we agreed that we miss each other awfully.

Actually, mostly, we talked about the bantams - fortunately, he approved of how I've been looking after them.  And I have, I've taken ever so much trouble, giving them soaked bread in the morning, corn at lunchtime and leftovers of more bread, salad and pasta from last night, with a bit more corn, this evening.  They have looked very well, though the old black hen was very noisy yesterday and the only way to stop her was to feed her - she's greedy and chases away any other girl who comes to eat, even though there's plenty for everyone.

We went and had lunch with Al and Dilly and afterwards Weeza and I came back here to put Zerlina down for her nap.  The phone rang and it was the son of our friend Daphne, who is staying with his girlfriend in Southwold for a long weekend and wondered if it would be convenient to call in during the afternoon.  Indeed it was, we haven't seen him for years.  He's a couple of years, nearly, younger than Al, and we all have spent a lot of time together, on and off.  His father died when he was in his mid teens, he referred to him several times - not in a particularly reverent way but it showed the influence still there, half a lifetime later.

This evening, I looked at the random collection of food I'd got - a cauliflower, a few new potatoes, some tomatoes, onions, shallots and garlic, a red and a green chilli, a few slightly wizened young carrots and some broad beans, and two large open-cup mushrooms.  I put away the cauli and potatoes until tomorrow, and the green chilli and cooked the rest with an assortment of spices.  It was fine.  Slightly unusual.  You'd not call it a recipe, mostly a matter of getting out everything beginning with c, plus some mustard seed.

Don't you love the way mustard seeds pop when you fry them?

Anyway, I thought you might like a couple of happy family photos.  The first is of Squiffany and Zerlina doing some drawing together and the second of Zerlina and Tilly having a cuddle.  Tilly has had such a happy time this weekend, she loves the children.

 

Z is left to look after the bantams

Dilly and Al had a party today.  They relied rather on fine weather because they planned a barbecue, with more guests than indoor chairs, but the Luck of the Sage held, even though the man himself wasn't there and the sun shone reasonably hot, which was more than it looked as if it was going to do.  All week, rain has been forecast which hasn't fallen, but the dry day that was predicted looked quite unlikely for a while.  Almost the whole family came, Dilly's parents and one of her sisters, with her family, Ro and his girlfriend Dora came and so did Weeza and Zerlina, though not Phil because he's visiting other friends this weekend. Various other families came too and the children all played cheerily together, without bothering us at all.  

The Sage has gone away for a couple of days.  Today, there was an Old Boys' Reunion at his school.  I find these things a bit bemusing, but then, as you know, I'm a bit of an old misery at heart and, if I hadn't kept in touch with people from several decades ago, I'd think it a bit odd to catch up with them once in a while just because we shared the same Latin classes.  Actually, I'd not recognise people either, by name or face.  I'm hopeless.  Anyway, I digress: the Sage was thoroughly looking forward to it, because various people who were in the school shooting team with him were going to be there.  They are older than he: he was a crack shot from an early age.  This is target shooting, of course, he has never been a hunter.

He is staying there tonight and tomorrow has some business to transact on the other side of the country, so will go from Derbyshire to Wiltshire and then home again on Monday by way of Towcester (which is, rather fabulously, pronounced Toaster, for those of you who do not herald from these shores).

So I'd be all alone tonight, were it not that Weeza is staying over.  Zerlina is staying with her cousins next door, so Weeza can relax.

And I've got to get up early tomorrow, to set up everything for the 8 o'clock service, so now I'm going to let Tilly out and in again, and go to bed.

Belle of the Ball

At the school this morning, it just so happened that I bumped into all the people I wanted to see - one to commiserate on the death of her mother, one to congratulate on being elected staff governor, one to thank (I have already, but now he's officially finished) for having been a governor, one to thank for holding the fort during a recent gap in staffing, one to wish good luck in a job interview for a big promotion.  She's relocating anyway, so we'll say goodbye to her anyway.

I had no idea that so much PR was involved in this job - last time I was chairman of governors, it was in a school with ten staff, rather than well over a hundred.

Today was a particularly important day, as I was meeting someone for lunch.  Roses and I have been really looking forward to meeting each other, and she finally discovered that I really do talk as much in real life as I appear to here.  As one does with a blogfriend, we dispensed with the cautious preliminaries of conversation and dived straight in to talk about Dave talk about ourselves.  We were just having coffee when I saw Dilly and Pugsley outside the window, so waved them in where they settled down for apple juice and chocolate cake.  Then the Sage strolled by and came in - I'd told the family how lovely Roses is, so they all wanted to meet her.  She, with considerable social skill, dealt with it all with aplomb.

Later, I showed her the wall, pointing out every small waver in the brickwork (if we'd tried just that bit harder, we'd have had a crinkle-crankle wall) which entertained her.  She met the bantams, the cows, the vegetables, the cock pheasant and several rabbits, but Tilly was asleep on the sofa so didn't come to greet us, and Roses then had to get home, as she is going to a ball this evening.

Independently, Dilly and I had the same reaction.  "Do you have a ballgown?"  Our wardrobes are decidedly underdressed, as we don't.  Roses does, so can dance the night away with no inconvenience of glass (or fur) slippers or a frock that vanishes at midnight.

Thanks, darling - it was lovely to meet you and I look forward to seeing you again xx.

Bringing on the wall, Day 38 - Dave is cornered

This has been a red-letter day. The whole of one side of the wall is finally complete.

The Sage brought Dave a celebratory cup of tea in an 18th Century mug. Dave quite unreasonably refused to drink it, on the grounds that the mug was both chipped and cracked.

The finishing touches.

The finished wall

The first section, which was completed last summer

We weren't idle the rest of the day, either. All ready for planting.