While I think of it ...

Madeleine (aka Pixiemum,  Lurking) was wondering how to post pictures from her iPad. I suspect that you can only do them one at a time, but it is possible if you go to the picture in your photo album, go to the little arrow at the top and then to email, then put in your blogger email address.  Not that I've actually done it before.

This is a few of the chickens on Sunday morning when the Sage was later than usual and they were waiting for their breakfast.  Yes, the door needs painting, but it's a horrid door and I'd rather have a new one instead.

Z

Sent from my iPad

Z is locked out

I arrived home at 10 o'clock, having been out for dinner. I knew that the Sage was going out this evening for a couple of business appointments, but the second of those was at 7, half an hour away, and I didn't think I needed to take a key with me.

So here I sit in the car. The lights are off next door so I can't go there for a key, and I shall have to wait. I could phone the Sage, but that seems a bit naggy.

Fortunately, I have my phone and several newly-downloaded levels of iAssociate. So my time will not be entirely wasted.

Z

Sent from my iPhone

Red wine and chocolate cake

The village fete having been rained off on Saturday, we met for our scheduled meeting this evening, at the pub, to decide what to do next, and have decided to rebook it for 15th October.  It'll mean forking out for the temporary licence and the insurance again of course, but there is money in the kitty.  The festival committee facilitates everything for the village organisations who run stalls and so on, and make money by leasing pitches to companies running bouncy castles, burger and ice cream stalls and to craft stalls.  This money isn't distributed but used for expenses the next year and we have a few hundred pounds in hand to allow for extras.

Of course, we've now got to meet a couple of times between now and then to finalise arrangements.  Which is a bit of a downer, but we think it's worth it, a lot of clubs and so on rely on this as their main fundraiser for the year.  We couldn't shift into the village hall on Saturday because the beer festival used that, but that won't be the case next time, although John the publican can use the VH bar if he wants.  I only ever offered to go on that committee to write up the notes and don't offer to do much more - this isn't a good time of year for me, and nor will be October.  I have a basic set of notes and alter them each time, with matters discussed and matters to be discussed in different colours so that they are updated year on year.

Otherwise, I've kept my head down today and been out as little as possible.  I've found my feet on Google+ and have had conversations there, which was as sociable as I wanted to be.

The title?  Lunch.

Explaining

You'll remember that we had our Ofsted last month and that same night, one of our caretakers had a stroke and died a few days later.  Then our Year 11 pupil died suddenly.  We have all found the last few weeks of term quite a strain.  But it got even worse.  On Sunday morning I had a message from a friend (who lives in  the village and is also a teacher at the High School) to say that the son of friends had been killed in a farming accident.  In his latish twenties, he was married with a baby.  His parents divorced and remarried many years ago and both extended families still live here.  His half-sisters go to school here, the eldest at the high school.

Already shocked, this made everyone feel terrible.  And yesterday afternoon, a member of staff (not a teacher) became seriously ill very suddenly and is now in Addenbrooke's hospital in Cambridge.

At the same time, it's the end of the school year and there are various awards being given out, sports days, staff leaving parties and all that sort of thing, for which we have to be upbeat.  And there's an awful lot of work to do, less than a fortnight for everything to be in place for the academy change.  It is legally set up, but we're still working our way through all the contracts we need for everything the local authority did.  And there's the end of year paperwork too.  The person who is ill is the financial manager's right hand woman so there's a practical problem as well as anxiety about a dearly loved friend and colleague.

So, nothing at all has happened as far as I or my family are concerned, we are fine.  But I'm shocked, grieving and so sad for the people whose lives are devastated.  Excuse me if I sound as if I'm wanting this to be about me, I really am not.

Today, however, has gone quite well.  Final music lessons (for me and for most of two Year 9 classes) were fun.  Interviews were extremely interesting, they will carry on later in the week and it will be a very hard choice.  Tomorrow, a staff/pupil cricket match after school.  I shall go and cheer on one team or the other, or probably both.

Body paint

I have, I find, reverted to my old self and am unable to phone the friends we want to invite to our party in a fortnight's time.  The Sage is doing it.  I'm not, as you may have gathered, feeling very cheerful and I don't really want to talk to people very much.  I'm not great with the phone at the best of times, whereas the Sage loves it, so he doesn't mind.  I will, of course, be fine long before the party time, so I don't want to cancel it.

This morning, I woke at about 6.15, lay there for a few minutes feeling too hot and decided to get up.  Downstairs, I found that it was actually not quite half past five.  I've got some work to do that I didn't have time for over the weekend so I should have done that, but in fact I read the Sunday papers instead.  The result is that it's now 9 o'clock and I am not even dressed and haven't done any work, so early rising has turned out to be counter-productive.

And so now, I'm going to get dressed and then find the right music to put me in a better frame of mind.  Two of the letters I have to write are to give people good news, then a formal one confirming it, and then a letter of condolence.

After the things at the school this afternoon, I am going over to see Weeza's bump, which is being painted.  Yes, that's right.

Nothing here

Can't blog tonight, sorry.

Dynamic cyclists

Zerlina was very pleased to see her Uncle Roro and persuaded him to take her upstairs to play on the rocking horse, then to fetch her glass of water and to read her some books.

Weeza is getting regular updates on progress from Phil, who is cycling through Essex at present. She is able to track his whereabouts on her phone, don't know how that works, and he texts her every hour or so. Once he gets to Dunwich, after a ride of 200km, about 100 miles, he will then have to cycle here which must be another thirty, and that after a sleepless and energetic night. All seems quite remarkable to me.

It did rain, the beer festival carried on in the village hall, the craft exhibition, teas and cake stall were in the church but the rest was cancelled. Or quite possibly postponed, we will look at the possibility of holding it in September instead. We have a meeting on Wednesday.

I'm really flagging and will be very glad when the month is over and I will be able to relax a bit. If I could sleep more it would be a help - actually, I did sleep better last night, probably because it was cooler, but only for five or six hours overall. But too much has happened, good and bad, in the last month and I could do with just one thing to concentrate on, not a whole range.

This week, however, we will be putting together the catalogue for the next sale. And I shall be busy at school, as it's the last week of term. There's a tea and award ceremony, music lessons, a cricket match and two mornings of interviews, and also the final details of academy conversion. Roll on August.

Spot

Just hurrying past, darlings, on my way to bed.  I've been chatting with Weeza all evening and now, having been awake since 4 am, I'm tired.

I've made a lot of cake.  None with fresh cream in, however, so they will not tempt Christopher.  They tempted the Sage and Zerlina though and there were not quite so many by the end of the evening.  Zerlina was very good and happy all day, finished her day with a good bounce on the bed and a ride on the rocking horse and went to bed.  I read her two books and left her with Barry, her bear, her giraffe and Spot the Dog, a soft toy that had belonged to Ro.  We decided he was excited at the prospect of cuddling a child again after all these years.  I'm afraid that I do tend to give personalities to cuddly toy animals.  I don't think I'm particularly twee in other respects, but they are not entirely inanimate as far as I'm concerned.

Foreovercast

I'm concerned.  The weather forecast still talks of heavy rain for Saturday.  We've been holding these village festivals in their present manner (that is, including a beer festival) for quite some years and the weather has always been fine.  Even when there has been a pretty dreadful summer, the sun has always shone on festival day.

Tomorrow, Weeza and Zerlina are coming over and staying for two nights.  They have never stayed over before, it will be great.  We intend to pamper them, rather.  Ro and Dora are also coming on the Saturday, although I don't know if they will change their minds if it rains; they intend at present to stay for supper.  All will be splendid, except for the weather...

Weeza will call at the repair shop tomorrow to pick up my clarinet, which I took in last week for a service.  I'm very much looking forward to playing it again.  It's been quite difficult the last few times, the pads have been a bit leaky and it's needed a lot of puff as well as care to keep it in tune (that is, not to squeak).  It would require many hours of practise to play as well as I did ten or so years ago, however.  Not sure if I'll ever be that dedicated again.

Seasoning

It has always seemed to me that, from sometime in May or June, I lose track of time, as if the year has speeded up and summer is over before I've had time to enjoy it.  Thinking about it, I have a theory.

There always is time to savour the spring, you see, and I think that's because the changes in nature are so visible.  Even in the winter, we are on the lookout for the first aconites and snowdrops, then crocuses, daffodils, tulips, leading on to bluebells.  Similarly, all the hedgerow flowers, from blackthorn to hawthorn and buds breaking on plum, cherry and apple trees - there's always something new to look forward to and enjoy.  We watch for the first swallow and house martin, listen for the cuckoo, enjoy watching birds forage for nesting materials and then bustle back and forth with beakfuls of food.  We anticipate the first home-grown radishes, asparagus, lettuce, strawberry and tomatoes and every few days is marked by a new event.

Then we get used to it, and there's not so much to anticipate.  And all the trees are in full leaf and, apart from anxiously watching to beat the birds to the cherries on the trees (normally won by the early risers), the countryside and the garden is just there, the latter needing to be watered and weeded.  And before we know where we are, it's mid-July and the year is more than half over and I always feel as if it's slipped past without me noticing.

Chopping and stirring

I made soup and risotto tonight, two of my favourite soothing foods.  Soothing to make, that is, lots of chopping and stirring.  I'd made stock yesterday, so wanted to use it up.  I'm quite in the mood for cooking but, as I said yesterday,  the kitchen is too hot at this time of the year to spend very long in there.  I've promised to do some cooking for Weeza for the freezer (that rhyme was unintentional) so that she has some easy meals once the baby is born.  Only another five weeks before he is due, she's glad to have started maternity leave.  She can't quite believe now that she carried on until three weeks before her due date last time, and was working in London at the time, travelling from Islington to Belgravia every day.

One helpful thing she did before finishing work was to help us register our septic tanks.  This is a new thing brought in by the Environment Agency, we didn't know about it but she did, because the people she works for own a large country estate in Norfolk and there are a number of houses, none of them on mains drainage.  I suppose they are contacting larger landowners before those with only one or two tanks, but we have got it done early.  Our septic tank is brilliant, it just digests away and doesn't need any attention at all.  And the water we use, having been duly filtered and so on, returns to the ground and isn't wasted by being piped away.

Work in progress

The work being done outside here is progressing, although it looks as if not a lot has happened recently.  Trouble is, there's a lot to do and none of it gets finished.  So the drive hasn't been touched for a while, because we are waiting for some electrical work (if we fill in then a trench will have to be dug later), part of the paving has been laid but then, because it's a good time of year to do it, work has been done on the hedges around the fields and there were some fallen trees and branches to deal with.  I hope that has been done mostly and we can finish the paving, at least.  I'm tired of it looking like a work in progress.  Still, at least 'progress' is a good sign.              

The school's Ofsted report is online now if you want to read it.   We've had to call an extra governors' meeting for this week to wrap up final approval for various academy matters and am keeping my fingers crossed that there will be a quorum.  Just another couple of weeks and I can wind right down for the summer.  It will be good.  I rather wish now that I was having a holiday, but there isn't any time.  I only had a few spare days, and now we've arranged a party for one of them - though in fact, it would have been such a rushed break that it wouldn't really have been a very good idea.  I'd just like to get away completely for a few days, that's all.

I must spend most of the next few days making cakes and so on, for the festival at the weekend.  The kitchen is too hot for really enjoyable cake-making, but I expect I won't mind once I get started.  Weeza and Zerlina are going to come and stay for two nights, which will be lovely.  Phil is going to do a bike ride - rather odd, it's an overnight thing from London to Suffolk.  Dunwich, I think.  I can't think why one would want to spend the whole night cycling, and I'm not sure how it works out - I think they must be going by bus to London and then be taken back to Norwich again afterwards.

BOG OF (as an acronym of course)

Am I alone in being fed up with special offers?  I can see the point with perishable goods, Al used them sometimes when he had a lot of ripe fruit that would not keep more than a day - but really they are just used to make you buy stuff that you don't want or need.  I remember some years ago one of the presenters on You And Yours on Radio 4 (I think it was Winifred Robinson, but am not sure) said that they are known, in her family, as Buy One, Throw One Away.

The wine shop chain Threshers had three-for-the-price-of-two offers for almost all their stock for several years.  But of course, they simply raised the price to allow for it, so you paid well over the odds if you just wanted a single bottle - such as champagne for a special occasion, or a bottle of good wine (compared to your usual tipple) as a present - and it was a specious bargain offer.  Of course, Threshers went bust in the end, so I probably wasn't alone in shopping elsewhere unless I actually wanted several bottles of wine.

I can see why bookshops have to have special offers and why they try to shift as many books as they can - the competition from Amazon and, for bestsellers, major supermarkets, is pretty crippling.  But I still don't want a buy one, get the second half price, or buy three for the price of two offers when I just want to buy a book.  It's annoying.  Amazon is still cheaper, after all.  Just give me the discount, even a slightly less 'generous' one, and I'll buy the book if I'm in the mood to buy a book.

If a bookshop is good enough, mind you, I won't even mind the full price.  I have mentioned before (nearly a year ago) that I visited Topping & Co. in Bath, and it was brilliant.  I didn't begrudge the full price and I found so many books that I wanted to buy.  I haven't been to Ely since, but when I do, I'll go with an open mind and a willing credit card.  I went to another bookshop when I was visiting the area (can't remember where it was) and it was, though smaller, almost as alluring.  It was also independently owned, which must be a tough way to make a living.

BOGOFs can have their appeal, admittedly.  Before Woolworth's went out of business, I used to check out their offers if I happened to be near a branch, because they were genuine ones.  It was worth stocking up on kitchenware and so on, if it would have returned to its full price in a week or two.  I thought of another example but the phone rang (for the Sage, as it turned out) and, Coleridge-like, the distraction has made me forget.

I have not forgotten, however, that I meant to finish on a different subject entirely.  While writing this (and doing some cooking and answering the phone and emails) I have been listening to Pick of the Week,  chosen and presented by Graham Seed, late of The Archers.  He is as delightful to listen to as he was when playing Nigel.  And no, I don't want to start listening to it any more.  It's just a soap, whose producer doesn't care about manipulating the audience.  So I opted out.  Bet I'm not the only one.

Z and the need for Excitement

The day has started unexpectedly well.  Going through some old papers, I found a pamphlet, which turned out to be a project that Ro did at Middle School about Lowestoft china.  It's spot on and very informative.  I vaguely remember him doing it (fifteen years ago) and he puts both me and the Sage down in the acknowledgements, but he certainly wrote it himself, there's a piece of information in there that I only picked up myself a few years ago, and the book he got it from is in the bibliography.   Although it was seen by the teacher, as there are ticks at intervals, there is no mark at the end.  I trust he got a good one.  There are several photos, taken straight from our most recent sale, but it's nearly all writing.  Very like me, that is, I remember feeling quite indignant as a child when I spent ages doing a piece of writing and someone else did a couple of pictures and a drawing with captions and got as high a mark as I did.  I always did prefer words to pictures, and besides it showed that I'd actually done the work.  No real surprise that I loathed 'projects'.  I would have been useless with examination coursework, I really couldn't be bothered, I'd have left it all until the last moment, if done it at all.  Nerve-wracking as they were, I preferred proper exams.  A lot of forward reading, memorising and thinking, a couple of intensive hours and you were done.

I was having a meeting the other day with the Head, and we were interrupted several times by messages coming in, all of which needed fairly prompt action by him.  "Always something extra," or something like that, I said, but he replied that he loves it.  "This job is never the same for two days, there is always something I need to react to and deal with."  He looked at me.  "You're the same, you wouldn't want a predictable job, would you?"

It's true.  I have a short attention span and need constant stimulation.

Better than never

I had to have an early night last night, so apologies if you were glaring glumly at the screen at midnight wondering where I was.  Bed by 10.30 didn't help me sleep, so I probably won't bother again, however.

In fact, I spent most of the night in the spare room.  The Sage gave the occasional little snore, so I left him to get on with it.  I know I have said it before, it's sad to say that I sleep better alone nowadays.  It's more than possible that he does too, he is certainly asleep still now, and it's after 8 o'clock.

Ro and I were talking about Google+ recently, and he sent me an invitation yesterday.  I suspect that Facebook will up its game in response - the thing is, you can choose how you categorise the people on it, so that they don't necessarily see everything you post.  This doesn't particularly matter for me, but there are those who come to regret being so outspoken.

The Sage has just come downstairs.  It seems that the day can begin.

Kippered

I visited a friend in Norwich this morning for coffee, with two others - we all used to be on the same committee and miss our get-togethers.  Then, dropping my clarinet off on the way for a service, I went and had lunch with Weeza and Zerlina.

It looks as though the whole family will turn up again, first for the village festival on Saturday week and then for our party a fortnight later.  We have invited five other people so far, must crack on and ask more.

I used to find it the most difficult thing, inviting people round.  The Sage had to do the job.  I was so insecure, I was quite sure that no one would really want to come and I'd have the embarrassment of listening to them make an excuse or saying that awfully false "oh, how lovely."  I'm not sure where that insecurity came from or where it went, but it has gone.  Not that I do assume that everyone is desperate to come and spend time with me, but I am not afraid to ask.  Or, when I am, I do it anyway.

The Sage has had a bonfire of the brambles that were removed from the hedges a week or two ago.  A strong whiff of smoke hangs about him.  I like the smell of a bonfire as much as anyone, but I'm glad he will have a bath before bedtime tonight.

And no pear tree in sight

The Sage has a new friend.

Yes, our side door does need painting.

A pair of partridges has nested before in our vegetable garden, but this year they were not lucky.  Magpies were particularly aggressive when the weather was so dry and they got all the babies, and they killed the male bird as well.  We are not fond of magpies.

Anyway, the family had been joining the chickens in their run to be fed, and now that she's alone, the survivor is becoming very tame.  She actually came into the porch today and the Sage thinks it won't be long before she feeds from his hand.  He has a way with birds, they always trust him.

This is turning into Party Year.  The Sage is throwing another party, this time to celebrate the car's 83rd birthday.  Having invited bloggers the first time, and Lowestoft collectors the second, this time we will invite some of our local friends.  Already, the Sage is talking about the next party - not this planned one, but another one.  I'm not sure what has come over us.  I'm also not sure what I'm going to do about food this time, I must start thinking about it.  Although, not this side of the weekend because we are going to yet another party on Saturday, the farmer that Big Pinkie and Whisper (as no. 400 has been named) belong to; that is the son of the farming partnership got married earlier in the year, and this is their wedding bash.  A hog roast, apparently.  Jolly fine.

Zcruff

It's not, necessarily, that I have any difficulty in spending money, just that it is rarely on clothes.  I'm just not that bothered, and I never have been.  If in the mood or sufficiently desperate for something suitable, I might buy several outfits in one go, but that might not happen for a couple of years at a stretch.

My mother was extremely interested in clothes and took great care of them, always changing as soon as she arrived home, carefully hanging garments up and being quite unbothered by large dry cleaning bills.  When I was a child, she chose my clothes, partly because I didn't care and partly because she did.  When I was married with young children I had little spare money - I once, unwisely, did a rough calculation of our household income and expenditure and was gratified to find that they matched pretty well, until I noticed that I had allowed nothing for my and the Sage's clothing.  I allowed for children's clothes and for books, and this seemed more of a priority.  As a result, I simply didn't buy anything unless I had to, and was quite relaxed about wearing my mother's or my sister's cast-offs.  In fact, the youthful photos I put up of myself a few weeks ago, including ones taken at Miss Fitt's 100th birthday 28 years ago - the ones I didn't post of my mother, she was wearing a black and white dress that she later passed on to me: I still wear it once in a while.

It's not that I don't care at all what I look like - for that, look to the Sage.  I once, completely exasperated by the dreadful garments he was wearing to a reasonably smart occasion, told him quite snappily that, if I were dressed as scruffily as he was, he would be shocked and not want to be seen with me.  The Sage was quite hurt, although it was quite true, although not hurt enough to mend his ways, or sew on any buttons.  I aim to be appropriately addressed, and am gratified if I seem to have got it right, but I'm not sufficiently interested to spend a minute more time than I must in shopping.

My hair costs me about £5 a week, so I must care enough not just to have a chop twice a year, but I rarely give an opinion on its cut to the hairdresser.  "Whatever you want," I say to her.  A request not to cut my fringe too short, because I like it to hide my wrinkled forehead, is as far as it goes.  I can't be bothered to hide the grey, let alone enhance the colour.  Although, actually, that is something I would be fussy about.  If I coloured my hair, I would not let the roots show.  I'd be so rigorous about that, it would be far too much effort.  I seem to have the idea that it's far better not to go to enough bother and therefore fail, than to go to *too much* bother and it show.

Z is careful not to worry

I'm not the only person who thinks a lot of our Headteacher.  I'm going to quote from an email I received today from another governor - "Concerning the very sad news of Aaron - I was with a group of sixth formers on Friday - I felt it was a real testament to the BHS family ethos as they discussed the moving assembly Sean had just delivered and the respect they have for him as Head ('he's amazing - he considers every pupil a member of his family'). I understand that the year 11 Prom in the evening celebrated a life with dignity - difficult times."  It's hardly any wonder that the staff and pupils are motivated to work so hard.  


I had an email from Ro this morning.  A car had pulled out from a junction on his way to work (he cycles the three miles into Norwich city centre) and, although he had slowed down, knowing that drivers don't necessarily see  cyclists, the car pulled out right at the last moment and he couldn't stop.  He is not much hurt, he said, a bruised arm, and he went on to work, leaving his damaged bike for repair.  The driver has agreed it was his or her fault (Ro didn't say which) and will pay up.  All seems quite civilised.  Ro assured me that he didn't hit his head (he is very considerate and wouldn't want me to worry).  Ho hum.  Bus for the next few days, I suppose.  Cycling in the city is fairly hair-raising, although there is a cycle lane along that road, it is also used by buses and there are numerous side roads.  We really aren't very geared up for bikes in this country.  There is no point in letting myself worry.


We have had some paving laid outside the house - it's only part done so far, actually, but I moved a table and chairs on to the part that is done and sat there for much of the day, working.  Not working very hard, admittedly, but enough for me to think I've got something done.  And it was extremely pleasant.  

Parp, parp

The Sage fetched back his car today. It will be 83 years old in a month's time.

We went for a spin round the village.

And then we went and called on friends.

The car had gone about ten or twelve miles altogether, and was a bit hot and bothered by the time we got back into the drive, and we had cause to call it the Envy of Sisyphus (see end of section 3).  It started again after a rest, however.

On quite another subject, I have been thinking about surnames, specifically fish-related ones.  I'm not sure if it's because we live near the coast, in an area of the country that used to be a major fishing locality.  I know or have known people called Fish, Trout, Codling, Salmon and, splendidly, Haddock.

Expectations

I've been taking it easy today.  I didn't altogether take the day off, I've got a fair bit done, but I read both daily papers by mid-afternoon, which doesn't often happen with the bulky Saturday papers.  I spent quite some time finding out more about my iPad, which I bought last Monday in a hopeful burst of exuberance.  It has already proved very useful at meetings, where I haven't had to take along papers, but just read documents from the screen.

I mentioned, the other day, that I'd had to carry the brown hen out of the porch, when she wanted to sit on eggs and I needed to go out.  We had to give in, she was determinedly broody.  Fortunately, the Sage's friend Graham, who is leaving for New Zealand tonight, brought 15 fertile bantam eggs as a parting gift, so they have been divided between the broody ones, three or four each, and we will raise a cockerel to join the family as well as some young hens.  We always bring in an unrelated potential father, not wanting ours to become inbred.

It's typical of this girl that she has neither hidden away nor sat in the hen house, but has come as close as she can to us.  She is unperturbed by comings and goings, but still sharply aware of what is going on.  I heard some squawking this morning, which was probably two of them having a brief altercation, and went out to find her craning her neck, trying to see what was happening without leaving her eggs.  The eggs she had laid were, of course, infertile, so I reached under her yesterday, taking them all away and then replaced them with four of those that Graham brought.

When the eggs hatch, we will put each foster mum and her chicks in a separate coop.  It's too risky to leave them outside, the magpies would get them.

Outstanding result

It has been the most up-and-down couple of weeks.  Last Monday week, we finally were notified that the school was to receive its Ofsted inspection, having been waiting for notification for over a month (we had been told that we were in the pilot for the new regime, but not when the inspection would happen).  We had spent a few days getting ready and the rest just getting haggard.


Then we had the inspection and were told the result, but were not allowed to tell anyone until the findings had been moderated and verified.  That was on Thursday evening.  On Friday came the news about the illness of our caretaker.  On Monday, we had a post-Ofsted get-together among the staff, and on Tuesday, the caretaker died.  Yesterday brought the sad news about Aaron, our young pupil, but the Year 11s were, with the blessing of his parents, going ahead with their end of year prom tonight.  We were still waiting for confirmation of the inspection, we could not be confident of anything and the waiting was nerve-wracking.


Just before 5 o'clock this evening, the Headteacher emailed me and all the staff with the news that the result is official.  We can go public.


If you have nothing to do with schools, it will not mean much to you, but our rural, comprehensive school with nothing apparently remarkable about it, run-down buildings and a lower than average attainment in its incoming pupils has sailed through its Ofsted and gained an Outstanding, the highest evaluation, gained by 10% of schools overall.  Proud?  Yes indeed.  I'm damn proud.  I have read the report, but it isn't online yet, so I'll just quote one sentence - "The school is a striking example of an integrated community with everyone working towards a single vision."


Oh, and a sentence from the letter to the students - "Your school is extremely well led and the staff work together well to support you and provide you with an excellent experience."


Twenty-three years, I've been a school governor, eighteen years at one school and nearly thirteen years at this one (do the math, darling, there was an overlap).  Both schools have always been good.  For the last six months, I've known we were outstanding and now we have corroboration.


And yes, we have lots of plans for improvement.

Don't read if you're feeling sad already

It has really been a very sad week, and today was the most distressing of all. At the end of last week, one of the school caretakers had a severe stroke and he died on Tuesday. His wife also works at the school, so it was more personally upsetting for many of the staff. I interviewed him for the job, he was a really nice man and we always greeted each other in a friendly way.

Worse, however, was the news today. The head teacher phoned me this morning to say that a student had been found dead at his home by his father. He was 16, went to the Norfolk Show yesterday with his family and went for a shower when they arrived home.  When he didn't come down again, his dad went looking for him.  I knew him from early childhood, though hadn't spoken to him for years, he was a pupil at the village school. I always greeted his mother in the town, a very sweet woman. One cannot begin to imagine what it could be like. I will write to Aaron's parents of course, but there is no comfort for them from me or anyone.

What is worst? Early miscarriage or late, death of a baby or a child or a young person? Being widowed young or very old? The death of a child or of a parent? Each is devastating, you cannot quantify it and yet, in some ways, surely this must be one of the worst things to happen, a young person who should have so much ahead of him, who dies so suddenly, from no illness or accident.

Brooding and ruminating

The brown hen has been coming into the porch for the last couple of weeks to lay her eggs.  The other day, the Sage went outside and shut the door, not realising she was in there and I found her a while later, pacing anxiously.  Today,  I heard a sound at the door and thought it was the postman.  I went out to discover that she was tapping from the outside, wanting to come in.  Later, I needed to go out myself and checked, and was rather dismayed to find her sitting, blissed out, in the straw-lined box that the Sage had kindly left for her.  I didn't want to leave her, and I don't want her going broody in such an inconvenient place (it gets very hot in there in the morning) so I picked her up, plonked her outside and left a handful of corn.  Fortunately, she stood up after a couple of minutes and began to eat it.  I've warned the Sage to keep an eye on her, but sometimes you can't stop a chicken getting broody.  I feel so sorry for them, sitting on eggs that will never hatch.

In other animal news, I didn't mention that Big Pinkie came to stay yesterday.  No. 400 is still here and they settled down together at once, both being placid and friendly.  Pinkie comes to the gate to be fed apples, as she always used to.  The grass has started to grow nicely after the rain, and the two of them wander round the field finding good grazing spots together.  It's all very comfortable and bucolic.

All night long

The forecast rain arrived around half past three.  A few minutes earlier, the Sage used my phone to try to ring the auctioneers in Woodbridge and came through here to say the damn phone didn't work.  I tried the number and I couldn't get through either, but it didn't seem to be the phone.  All the same, I suggested he use the landline and there was a ringing tone and the receptionist answered.  Asked if there was a fault, she explained that there had been a power cut during a storm.  A couple of minutes later, as they were still talking, the storm reached here and our own electricity was cut off.  And a few minutes later Weeza, with whom I'd been exchanging emails, said that she was saving her work in case there was a power cut when the oncoming storm hit.  So I can confidently say that it was moving south to north.

As usual when there is heavy rain, it leaked in above the window near my desk. I keep a towel on the windowsill, but had to get a couple more to deal with all the drips.  And then the phone rang.  People do choose their moments.

I grumbled to the Sage and he explained what needed to be done to stop the leaks happening again.  "So you know?  Couldn't it have been done already, we've lived here 25 years," I rather tactlessly enquired.  It is quite heartrending, watching the Sage appearing abashed.  He has promised to do it, or get it done, I'm not sure which.

Most dismayingly, I've been quite off alcohol in this humid weather.  One night, I just drank water, and other nights a single glass of wine has been enough.  I trust that this state of affairs doesn't last too long.  The evenings seem to drag on forever.

Making a start

Weeza's entry into the world of antiques came rather younger than Ro's.  When she was six or seven weeks old, the Sage helped his friends Norman and Barbara, about whom I wrote last week, with their stall at an antiques fair at Earls Court for two or three days.  We took down our Victorian mahogany swinging cradle for her to sleep in, because six week old babies sleep mostly, don't they - well, we were young and naive and knew no better.

She did sleep some of the time, but it was rather exhausting for me, nowhere to sit comfortably and I can't remember where I retreated to when I needed to feed her.  However, she was very popular with the visitors, and quite a draw for our stand.

You know how it is, that people always say the same witticism as each other?  Like, when you're seen kneeling, it's "say one for me while you're down there."  If you are working in your garden, you are cordially invited to tackle the speaker's flowerbed when you have done.  On that occasion, most people asked, if they bought the cradle, did the baby come free?  There were two or three other jovial remarks that were repeated rather a lot of times, can't remember what they were at the moment.  You may have some ideas yourself.  One actually did make me laugh, however.  A man peered into the cot and observed "That's not an antique.  It's a reproduction."

Bid for Fivedom

I was reminded, by reading Mike and Ann's blog today, of the first time that I bid at one of the major auction houses and that, in turn, reminded me of when Ro started his buying career.  I told Mike that he was three or four, but I have checked the details with the Sage now, who looked up the sale and Ro was actually five, and the sale was in May 1990 at Sotheby's.  Hug0 M0rley-F1etcher was the auctioneer (he still appears as an expert on Ant1ques R0adsh0w).  The Sage and Ro sat at the front and, when the desired item came up, the Sage touched Ro's elbow and up went his hand. The bidding went up and up - they nearly got the piece quite cheaply, but then a fresh bidder came in and the price doubled in a few minutes.  It was a sparrowbeak jug in a Mandarin pattern, we still have it.  Finally, the auctioneer's hammer went down.  "Sold!" he said, pointing, "to this young gentleman."  Ro held up the card with the bidder number.  After the auction was over, the Sage told Ro to go and thank the auctioneer ... and ask for a catalogue - the charge should have been £12 but he was given it.

Ro often went with his father to view sales in London.  At that time, we used to buy a family railcard and could take the children for £1 each.  We used to blithely let Ro handle the china, when he was very little this caused some anxiety once in a while, as he was reluctant to let go and had to be distracted - though it rarely happened, he was very good.  I remember once, I showed him a life-size china greyhound when he wasn't quite ready to give me an item.

There was another sale that we viewed in Woodbridge in 1986, when he was not yet two years old.  There was a Lowestoft birth tablet in that sale and he was very tickled with it.  He picked it up and held it to his chest.  "Badge!" he said.  That was a rather worried moment before I was able to remove it from his hand.  It later sold, not to us, for £4,200 (this was a quarter of a century ago, remember, it has probably quadrupled in value now).

Ro never dropped or damaged anything and, remarkably now I look back, none of the staff ever suggested that it was the least unwise, letting him handle valuable china.  It would have been our responsibility if anything had been broken, of course.  He was, genuinely, extremely careful and trustworthy.  All our children handled china, almost from babyhood, and nothing was ever dropped.

Oddly enough, now he of our children has least to do with the china at our auctions.  He is in charge of the computer, registering the potential bidders, filling in the prices realised and printing the invoices.  Weeza helps at the view, taking china to be looked at and handled, and Al holds up each piece during the auction for people to be sure what they are bidding for.  None of them collects art or antiques, although Weeza, in particular, is pretty knowledgeable about Lowestoft china.


*I really hoped that he was three years old, and had the post title planned.  Still, wouldn't want to waste it.

Z and the Sage dance

It's really warm tonight, I think I shall have to make some alternative bedclothes arrangements or we will spend the night throwing off the duvet and panting.  And not in a good way.

We have just got home from a party, a joint 70th wedding anniversary.  That is, 40 years for one couple and 30 for the other.  We have known all four of them for a very long time and saw a lot of friends, including our last Rector and his wife and daughter.  They are really good friends, the sort that you just catch up with at once, however long ago that you saw them.

And yes, we did dance.  Energetically (barn dancing, with a caller) and I am shockingly puffed out.  Still, my hips are fine, so I am more than happy.

In fact, the release of tension has made me so relaxed and cheerful that I keep finding myself with a big grin on my face.  It's too soon though really, I have a lot to do in the next month.

That reminds me, and will bring me right down to earth again, it's Ro's birthday in a month's time.  No idea what he might like as a present.  I'll go off and worry for a while before bedtime.

Looking back

Today has been quieter.  I've been catching up with emails and typing.  I went in to the school at lunchtime, walked around the field with the Head (he does the rounds every day and he happened to be going out as I arrived) and I saw the people I wanted to.  Hugs and chats and so on, and then I called in at the village school on the way home.  It had an inspection the week before we did, and now the news is official, that they have received 'good with outstanding features," which is marvellous.  I love that school, I was a governor there for 18 years and it will always be dear to me, although I left five years ago.  Don't feel obliged, but if you want to read the report, it's here.  This is an evaluation under the current framework and ours is under the new one, we're one of 150 schools in the pilot.

We are having a piece of ground paved over, it's on the east side of the house, open to the south but shaded from mid-afternoon.  The chickens having taken over the lawn, we tend not to sit and eat out there any more, so I suggested using this sheltered area instead.  I suspect we will use it during the day and, if we want to sit out, will go round the other side of the house in the evening, but we haven't time for that at present anyway.

We had some sharp sand delivered and the Sage took the driver out a cup of tea and chatted for a few minutes.  The tray is one that my mother-in-law had made for us when Weeza and Al were little, with photos set in - nearly all of Weeza, actually.  In one of them, the Sage's father, Pa, was holding her and the driver recognised him.  The Sage was really pleased to share memories.

It was one of our better decisions, moving here to the Sage's childhood home.

Pulling teeth and drawing blood

A dentist appointment* and a blood donation session in the days when Ofsted visited has become my metaphor for the experience.

So, yesterday I, with other governors, had the Interview, and I've been in this afternoon to hear the verdict - which I am not at liberty to tell you, at present, so please don't ask or speculate, because it really is confidential for the next few days.

And today, to take my mind off things, I helped clear by the hedge on the front field.  The brambles have built up badly for several years and, now that the partridges and pheasants have nested, it seemed a good time to get rid of them and let light and air through to the mostly hawthorn hedge.  In the afternoon, they moved on to the other hedge, along by the road (although still the field side, the road side is kept tidy).

About 10 or 12 feet of rubbish has been taken out.  We will, of course, still encourage wildlife, and birds to nest.  But the grass is in poor condition and will be improved by grazing, so we are going to fence the field, provide water (there is a stand pipe nearby) and have some cows or sheep on there for a while.

An oak that the Sage planted as a small sapling some years ago is doing well, and a self-seeded oak, only about three feet high, is down in the corner near the road end, but far enough away from the wall, the hedge and the road that it is never going to be in the way, so we will protect it from the animals and leave it to grow.


*No teeth were drawn or even filled, it was just a check-up - I couldn't have given blood if I'd had work done of course.

Sweeping clean

The day never starts well with a dental appointment ... still, just a check-up and nothing needs to be done. If it had been, I'd have had to cancel tomorrow's blood-letting.  Dear oh dear, feels like a draining week.

I arrived home to find Al's old Morris Minor (it is old, although not as old as I am) out of its garage.  Mike was taking it away to have a look at it.  Al has decided to sell it.  This is a big decision, it was his 17th birthday present and gosh, that is over half his lifetime ago.

*sits and ponders*

Anyway, it still has its original number plate, it's quite possible that it is more valuable than the car is.

It's a bit dusty.

An old broom

I'm looking out of the window at a broom in flower - not the sort you sweep the floor with, the plant broom, obviously.  I grew it from seed about 20 years ago.  I grew several, in fact, and I think this is the last one left.  It has grown into a small tree, which was rather unexpected as the rest stayed bushy and not very tall.  This one is 15 or 20 feet high.

If I had known it would grow so tall, I wouldn't have planted it there.  It's not in the way, exactly, but now it overhangs the phone line.  And, when it was windy a couple of weeks ago, a branch (that did not overhang the phone line) broke.  The wood split so it is still attached, and we can see, at the join, that there is a small amount of rot.  We haven't cut it off yet, it was in bud at the time so I thought it might as well flower.  It's looking rather pretty - the rest of the tree, that is - with a rather mimosa-esque air.  However, I think that we have had a warning and I'm afraid that severe pruning is in order.  It will sprout again; it has where we removed one branch that showered Dilly with rain regularly, as it was just above where she parks her car.  However, it will look fairly unattractive for quite some time.

I haven't reported progress on the drive project for some time.  It's all been rather bitty.  We need to get everything done as far as possible to the same extent before the whole thing is completed.  However, progress is being made and yesterday, the Sage and I walked around the garden deciding on priorities for the next jobs.  Richard is coming with his digger tomorrow, and both he and Jamie will be along on Thursday and Friday, so we can get a lot done.

It is indeed costing a lot, but we've not spent much here for years, so it's about time.  Once the last of one's children grow up, leave home and become financially independent, one realises how much they used to cost.  The garden can receive the benefit this year.

The whole garden, never mind the drive project, is rather bitty and so will never be a thing of great beauty.  It will be reasonably pretty, in parts, and enjoyable for children to play in because there are nice little hidden-away areas plus open spaces, it will still attract wildlife because there are large parts that we will leave as much as possible, and the chickens will still be free to roam anywhere but the vegetable garden.  I will, no doubt, be very frustrated when they eat my flowers, but I'd rather have happy chickens than flowers.  The new border will, if necessary, have shrubs rather than herbacious perennials in it.  I can grow them in the vegetable garden.  That is bigger than we need, now I don't grow anything for Al to sell.

Oh, and there is a low wall for me to build.  I'm looking forward to that.  It won't be a decorative one, or even a barrier.  It's just to stop the lawn falling on to the drive and will be no more than a foot high.

Norman

I can't remember if I said, a few weeks ago, there was a programme about Morecambe and Wise and we were really pleased when they showed a short clip of an episode in which a friend of ours appeared.  It prompted me to Google his name and, on IMDB, I found out which episode it was.  I promptly ordered that series from Amazon and squirrelled it away for a suitable occasion.  When Ro was at a loss for a birthday present for his father, I offered it to him.

Norman and Barbara were dear friends of the Sage's.  They had an antique shop in London and often did business together; the Sage was a full-time auctioneer at that time and they bought a good deal of stuff from him.  Norman's day, or rather evening, job was musician; he was a pianist and a composer and played at all sorts of events, night clubs, variety shows, the Ritz - he was the pianist there too, although I don't think he ever overshadowed the soup and annoyed the chef to the point of violence*, he was far too considerate for that.

The year before I married the Sage, Norman and Barbara's daughter Carole had her 21st birthday party at the Ritz and the Sprig** was a guest.  One of the highlights of his social life, that was, it was fabulous.  And the first time he took me to London on my own (we had gone there with his friend Arthur the week before to an art exhibition), sort of our first date, he took me to their shop to introduce me to them.  They were highly intrigued, he had never been seen by them with a woman before, and along he came with an extremely young girl (well, compared to him, that is) who hardly said a word, and no explanation!

Anyway, Norman died some years ago and Barbara is in her 80s now and has recently moved house to live near Carole, and we phone each other a couple of times a year.  The 60s and 70s were the best years, I suppose, he was earning and spending a lot of money and having plenty of fun.  He was absolutely lovely and we remember him with great affection.

I've just checked the DVD to find the episode with Norman in - if you happen to have the programmes, it's Series 9, Episode 5, very near the start.  It was absolutely lovely to see him again, and I'd forgotten that the sketch lasted several minutes.  I shall put it on the Sage's laptop later, he will love it too.



*Saki reference

**I have momentarily forgotten whether, immediately before marrying me, he was the Sprout or the Sprig.  In any case, he achieved Sagacity on marriage.

The Sage talks about the past

The Sage is such an enthusiast.  He has been reminiscing, rather beyond my capacity, I must confess.  I don't have a bad memory, but to remember when something happened, it's best if there's something to hang it on, as it were.  For example, I know exactly when Miss Fitt died, because it was the year that Ro was born (she was thrilled to be able to hold and cuddle him, she loved children) and she lived to 101 years and 6 months, to the day.  Since I remember her birthday and how old Ro is, I can work it out.  But then he was asking me other dates and I have only a vague idea.

He started to talk about Mrs Dare, Miss Fitt's blind sister.  He spoke of her with such warmth that I was puzzled.  "Did you meet her?'  "Oh yes," he said, "I remember her well."  Since I don't, not very well, and he could only possibly know the family through us, I was more puzzled, and pondered for a while.  I finally  pointed out that she died well before he moved to Lowestoft, when I was still a child.  He tried to argue for a bit, but I had my facts marshalled by then, and so he had to agree that he never actually knew her at all.  He and I met when I was 16, in early February 1970 (I'm afraid I cannot give you the exact date in this instance).  "I heard all about her," he protested.  "I feel as if I knew her."

He does that, you know, and I've so often seen the look of bewilderment on someone's face when he talks about someone as though about a friend, and it turns out to be someone who lived at least 80 years ago.  Most people are far too polite to challenge him, even when he starts to ask if they knew him or her too?  It's very amusing to watch, though it drives me nuts when he does it to me.  I am boringly precise about verifiable details and uninterested in speculating on ones that cannot be checked, and he is rather the opposite.  Weeza can hardly bear to watch us when we have that sort of conversation, though the boys find it quite entertaining.

Socially whirling

The Sage has had a very jolly birthday.  All his children and grandchildren came to his party and, after lunch, he and his friends spent an hour or two looking at and talking about china, which is enough to make any auctioneer happy.

Looking at my diary, I see that we are going to another party next Saturday.  This is turning out to be the most sociable year we have had for a very long time.  I'm rather awkwardly aware that those to whom we 'owe' hospitality are not, in the main, the ones who have been here, so I'd better get going and find some free weekends to ask them over.  Although it has to be said, it's rather safer to get near the time and phone on the chance they're free - those things planned weeks ahead can become inconvenient in the end.  I don't suppose that we're in any way unusual, in that a free week can suddenly get booked up and the event at the end of it becomes difficult to fit in at all.

Our friend Daphne, who was unable to come today, has suggested that we have a party to celebrate the car's 82nd birthday on 3rd August.  She has known the Sage for about 60 years and remembers when he bought the car.  I shall soon exhaust my pudding repertoire at this rate.

Wink has to leave very early tomorrow morning to get back for the Bod's birthday celebrations.  She says that she will not wake us - although one or other of us is usually awake very early, even if we don't get up straight away.

There was torrential rain today, by the way.  First a hailstorm, which was a bit of a surprise, and then several downpours, with a thunderstorm.  Rain is traditional at this time of the year, of course, but we don't often get hail in mid-June.  Quite impressive.

FHB

I woke up early again, around 5.30 and listened, but there was no sound from the fireplace so I played Angry Birds for a while on my phone.  The sound an hour later was from a desperate, rather than an angry bird.  The Sage was still asleep, so I got up, moved the chest of drawers and uncovered the fireplace.  The dove was flopped in the grate, but it fluttered strongly enough when I picked it up and flew away when I released it through the open window.  I hope it found water quickly and has survived.  I wasn't surprised; in my experience they do not leave the apparent safety of the fireplace unless you chivvy them.

Wink has arrived and brought pouring rain from the West Country with her.  I have made three meat dishes for tomorrow and will do two vegetable ones in the morning.  I have also made two of the three puddings.  I am quite agitated, however, in case there is not enough food.  This does not, you understand, indicate that there is not enough food, just that I am never entirely comfortable unless I have overcatered.

Dove dive

Rather splendidly, the major fuss I made here the other day has got it out of my system and I've been feeling better since then..  In part because there is too much else to do - once I took in that I haven't time to hang about, there's so much to be getting on with, I stopped dwelling on the frustration that the thing that we are waiting for has not happened.  And so I'm still burning the candles (just at one end) but I'm listening to music too in the evenings.

This morning, I had just woken up when, at around 6 o'clock, I heard the sound of a dove falling down the bedroom chimney.  I knew it was a dove because I could hear that it was a large bird, but pigeons never do fall down.  Maybe they just have a better sense of balance.  There is a board in front of the fireplace and a chest of drawers in front of that.  When we got up, we moved them and left the windows open and the door shut.  I don't know if it got out as I went out for lunch; the Sage shut them later on the assumption that it had probably gone.  I hope so.  We will find out at first light tomorrow; if it is still there it will start to flutter again and I will get up straight away and let it go.  There are ledges in the old chimney where it was sitting when I looked for it this morning.  As you can tell, I've dealt with this regularly over the past 25 years.

We do occasionally have birds come down the drawing room chimney, but less frequently, and they are smaller birds.  This chimney is lined so there are no ledges.  Once, my cleaning lady came to tell me, in some agitation, that there were two black and white birds flying around the room.  A pair of swallows had fallen down.  We were able to get them out of the window, but there was a fair amount of clearing up to do.  At least, since we never light a fire in the bedroom, there is no soot.

Rambling Zos

I spent some more time this evening looking at photos.  Some of the few in existence of my grandmother, who died when I was two and whom I don't remember at all.  She was holding my sister as a baby or standing by my grandfather and he was holding her.  It's indistinct and I can't really see what she looked like, but I don't think she was bothered in the least about her appearance.  It was just as well, she had had cancer in her face and and radiation treatment, which I think must have been fairly haphazard at that time (I think it was the 1930s) had destroyed some of the bone, which periodically worked its way out, and she wore a scarf or bandage round her head to hide the damage.  Just a casual knotted piece of material.  It looked quaint, but I don't suppose she cared, from what I have heard of her.

Although I've done a fair amount of reminiscing here over the years, I don't look back much.  My mother told me a lot of stories about her and my father's past, but I don't think I have done as much to my children. It's a bit late to start now, they'd think it was the ramblings of an old woman.  Er...

Anyway, I have succeeded in buying a birthday present for the Sage, which is rather a relief, as his birthday is on Friday.  It is a saucer.  He will love it.  Soon, I must start to think about his party on Saturday.  There will be 21 or 22 of us - though that does include the children, and I don't suppose that Hadrian will take much part in the festivities.  I'm going out tomorrow, but I'd better allow time to do some shopping, and then cook on Friday.  I could have planned ahead really, couldn't I.  Bit late now.

Pictures of Z!!(!)

Darlings, I know that there is nothing in the world that you want more at this moment than pictures of the young Z, is there.  Is there?  Oh.  Well, you're getting them anyway.

As I said, I'm doing some turning out of my mother's things and I was awfully pleased to come across her Christmas crib - she and my father bought it in Woolworth's in 1947, the year they were married, when just about everything was in short supply or rationed and they didn't have much money anyway.  No doubt, you will be shown it in six months' time.  There was also the fairy for the tree, who isn't very pretty, to be honest, and the last of the bird tree decorations that I loved so much as a child.  I didn't know that she had kept one.

I also found several packs of photos.  Also, in a walnut box with some odds and ends I was surprised to find a lock of my hair.  I vaguely remember promising to bring it back from the hairdresser's when I finally had my long hair cut, which I think was sometime in my late 20s.

Anyway, I have made you wait quite long enough, and here goes...

This is certainly me, but I don't recognise the background or the dress and it isn't a typical photo - I'm usually looking shy and winsome or else wild-haired and tomboyish in childhood pictures.

These are all of me in my twenties.  The first is me and my mother, at her house - not the house I grew up in, she and my stepfather moved house in the late 1970s.  It was before The Haircut.  The second was taken in 1981, when Joepie, our childhood au pair visited.  In the third, I'm with Miss Fitt (sadly, her real name).  She died in 1984 at the age of 101 and this was her 100th birthday party, so it must have been June 1983.  The next time is the same party, although the colour of my jacket is quite different - the truth is probably somewhere in between.  The last of these pictures was taken in our lovely Edwardian house in Lowestoft and my stepfather, Wilf, is in the foreground.

That's all of me, but this picture of Wink is so lovely that I want to show it to you.  Isn't she pretty?  That's during the same visit made by Joepie (Dutch, short for Johanna, pronounced Yoopi).

Finally, Al with the Sage's Ma at Miss Fitt's birthday and Weeza and Al in 1981.  They must have been 7 and 5 at the time.  Sorry about the mark on Al's face, I didn't notice before I scanned the pic and I can't be arsed to do it again.  Sentiment can only go so far.  Sheesh.

It just occurred to me that you might like the most recent photo of me, for comparison.  So here it is.

Z paces the floor and worries

This evening, I cannot find music to fit my mood, or else soothe it.  I've tried a range of stuff, and it all irritates me.  I have turned it off and lit a candle instead.

Usually, I don't give it a great deal of thought, but let my choice just happen.  I listen on Spotify, mostly, largely because I want to get my money's worth from my subscription, but also because, even if I've bought the disc, the artist might as well get the small sum from it being played.

I'm becoming a nervous wreck.  Time was, you got a longish period of notice of a school inspection, but you knew when it would be.  Then you got short notice (at one time, it could be no notice at all, they might just walk in, but I don't think this happened to many schools).  This time, they told us that we're in the pilot group, but not when they would come.  I am not consciously worrying, but my shoulders hurt because they are so tense, my face aches because I'm grinding my teeth and I wake every hour or so at night.  Even the Sage is irritating me, because he's so cheerful.  Well, not just that.  Someone called in for a school business conversation and he monopolised the conversation throughout, with the result that we weren't able to have our discussion.

I'm sorry.  It's just that there's so much to do, and this is holding us up.  I'm also attempting to do some turning-out, things belonging to my mother.  Yes, she died eight years ago, but this is stuff that stayed in a cupboard in Al and Dilly's house for some time, so it's only been in a spare room for five years or so and it just got left.  Now, I'm being a good example to the Sage.  He has a room to turn out, and he needs somewhere to put his things.  There's no point in nagging, I've got to have a practical solution or the work will never get done.  Anyway, much of my mother's stuff has turned out to be old papers, not interesting ones but newspaper cuttings and bank and tax papers, so it can all be burned.  But every half hour or so, someone calls or the phone rings and then I don't get back to it.  I can see that this will take me quite some time.  So far, one boxful to keep, four to get rid of.

I cannot see that we will ever be in a position to downsize.  Having said that, Ro's room is as he left it when he moved out, and it's a huge room.  Lined with cupboards and shelves, it could solve all our storage space issues.  I wonder if he'd mind.

Numbers

Now it's raining properly, at last.  Showers were forecast yesterday - I went to London with a waterproof jacket and sunglasses in my bag, though only needed the sunspecs, because it was dry all day and sunny for an appreciable part of it.  It was lovely at 7.30 this morning when I first went out, not a cloud in the sky.

We had lunch with Weeza and co.  Zerlina does enjoy food.  She ate the sausage first, then the carrot and asked for more.  She cleared her plate (chicken, roast potato, chipolata, carrot, asparagus), picking up the asparagus neatly with her fingers, although eating the stalk first rather than the tip.  Then she ate ice cream.  After that, she wanted to have a go on her swing, so I pushed her for rather a long time.  Swings are rather more fun when you're swinging than when you're pushing.  Please read each part of that sentence entirely in its context, btw.  She is a tall and slender little girl with a lot of energy, but she also needs plenty of sleep.  Her mother ensures that she still has an afternoon nap, which is quite unusual in a child of her age (Weeza herself was impossible to keep in bed for a nap after 18 months or so) but I'm sure that it's good for her.

I took a present for each of them; Adnam's bitter for Phil, grape juice for Weeza and a book for Zerlina.  It is a book written by my friend Charlotte, who stayed with us a few months ago.  She only wrote and illustrated three books, as she had bad RSI and couldn't draw any more; we bought the first one when Ro was young and we still have it, but the others were for younger children and I didn't get it at the time.

I haven't yet given any thought to the Sage's birthday present.  He is terribly difficult to buy for.

I noticed, the other day, that I've driven 16,000 miles in my car since I bought it, 32 months ago.  How neat.  I still do not particularly warm to it, but it has to be said that Mercedes make good cars, or they did 13 years ago, anyway.  Well over 100,000 miles and it's (regrettably) still going strong and I have no excuse to trade it in.  The Sage is working on his old Rover at present, almost everything is wrong with it.  He and his friend Mike (the *other* Mike and Ann, if you came to the party) spent all day on it, and got it working in the end.  It didn't help that a mouse had made its home there.  The electrics are still to be done, but the plan is to have it on the road for August in time for its 83rd birthday.

To London, and home again

The day went very well, no delays at all and I walked from Knightsbridge tube station to meet Wink, who had arrived before me and was having coffee.  I have walked quite a long way, I suppose - well, it feels like it, though I don't suppose it's more than a couple of miles.

The tube back, it was about 5.30 and, although a Saturday, was very crowded.  We were jammed in and some people had to stay on the platform and wait for the next train.  A lot of tourists, who found the crowds good fun and were smiling.  There was a group of Spanish people and one of them was talking loudly to another, a few yards away.  Her voice was not only loud, but piercing and I tried to keep my head turned for her voice not to blast right into my ear.

I didn't actually mind the crush, I'd found it more of a nuisance outside the Albert Hall where people who'd just exited with us were milling round getting in the way.  On the tube, we were all being good-humoured and considerate (apart from the Spanish lady, who wasn't doing it on purpose, she didn't know her voice could shatter glass*).

Standing there strap-hanging, I pondered - if asked, I'd say I don't like crowds at all and I feel oppressed if there are too many people around me, but the only discomfort I felt was because I was too hot and wished I'd taken my jacket off.  I tried to think it through - I think it was the patience that made the difference.   There was physical consideration, people were trying not to touch, but being good-humoured if it was unavoidable.  Because we were all standing still - that is, swaying about a bit but not moving along - I wasn't nervous of being knocked over.   Um.  Still doesn't entirely add up.

Tomorrow, we are having lunch with Weeza and family.  She and Phil want to go and check out dishwashers without Zerlina, so the Sage and I will babysit after lunch (she still has a nap, so I must remember to take the papers to read, or a book).

* I doubt you should take this literally

Z doesn't look an idiot (or at much else)

Irony, irony, they've all got it in for ...wait, that isn't right.

It isn't indeed.  We've been awaiting the Ofsted call for an inspection for the last three weeks and have still not received it.  The village school, Al says, has.  They are to be inspected next Tuesday and Wednesday.

They will do well, it's a jolly good little school and has been for at least the last 23 years - I became a governor there in September 1988 and Ro started there as a pupil in April 1989.  18 years, I retired in 2006, and I still refer to myself as part of it; that is, I say "we" rather than "I." I probably always will.  I'm ludicrously tenacious.  Interestingly, though it'll be the first inspection in the new school buildings and there isn't a permanent Head at present.  The excellent Head left in February and they interviewed for a replacement, but no one came nearly up to scratch.  One of the teachers was asked to be acting head for the time being, rather than bring in someone temporary, a mark of how well the staff all work together.

Tomorrow, I'm going to London to meet my sister.  We're meeting for lunch and then going to the Albert Hall to see this - which, actually, I've only just looked up, I wasn't at all sure what we were going to.  She rang a few weeks ago to suggest it, I'm happy to go and will enjoy it, though I'm not big on dance in particular.  Probably because I'm not the most 'visual' person, unless it's printed - for example, I forgot to put in my contact lens this morning and I only noticed a few minutes ago that things were a bit soft-focus.

The other day, I was at a lecture (about Goldsmiths Hall, it's brilliant, do go to one of their exhibitions or to the Fair in September/October if you have an opportunity) and the person in front of me was partly obscuring the speaker some of the time.  I was looking at the pictures on the screen and then at her and so was he, and I realised that, depending on whether I was able to see her with both eyes or just my left one, she was clear or fuzzy, and yet I was quite unable to tell when the right eye was taking over except by that.

This afternoon, I unpacked the dishwasher and started to remove the filter at the bottom to rinse it clean, but not all the water had drained.  I checked that the programme had finished (not entirely daft, darlings) and then that the drainage hose hadn't kinked, and then put on a rinse programme to see if it was a one-off.  It wasn't.  I phoned John Lewis where we bought it from, and got a call-out number to give the service people.  I was in a queue when I rang that number so decided to do it online - but while I was looking at the website, I noticed instruction manuals.  On that, it said that the pump might have just blocked and to try resetting it.  Well whoopee.  Glad I did, and so saved myself from looking an idiot with a service engineer call-out.  I've got the instruction book here somewhere, of course, but I've put it away very, very securely.

Z totters

Last night's was a short post, because I was completely distracted by the news I'd had at around 6 o'clock.  I had been making minestrone soup - how is it, by the way, that I never seem to be able to make a small amount of minestrone?  Nearly 8 pints, and I've added more stock to the leftovers today.  I should say, that we packed away a lot of it last night and had more for lunch today.  I left the soup to cook in the bottom oven for a final half hour, poured a glass of wine and came in here to check emails, and found one from the school business manager.  The title was Fwd: Academy Order approval (*name of school*).

Do you know, I almost cried.  A huge smile on my face, I had a swig of wine and read the message.  From her, it just said 'Sent from my iPhone'.  Beneath,  it started "Dear Lynn, I am delighted to tell you that the Secretary of State and Lord Hill have approved your application to convert to academy status."  It was a warm and friendly letter and, I must say, that our project lead at the Department of Education is very helpful and reassuring whenever we get in touch with him.

We are on track, having done a great deal of preliminary work (engaged solicitors, obtaining land deeds, engaged financial, pension and HR services, obtained quotes for insurance, accountants and so on, but there's still a lot to do.  Ironically, the least to do is in school.  The thing is, the school is great.  We have excellent staff who work together really well, an exceptional Head and governors are shrewd and knowledgeable managers who monitor what's going on.  The students are great, and I know that because I go into lessons regularly and get to know them.  We have a very wide curriculum; being in a rural and not a wealthy area, we need to provide both sound academic education as well as arts and vocational courses.  We want to protect this against the push to narrow the curriculum in schools.  We will transfer all the terms and conditions of all the staff (as we're required to do) but, although we could change them afterwards, we do not intend to.  Why would we?

Tonight, I went out for dinner and wore stilettos, for the first time in ages.  Since having my hip done, I've been able to wear heels, though best not everyday, but they've mostly been reasonably substantial; wedges or, at least, chunky.  But I put on my pale pink stilettos, that I bought for Weeza's wedding six years ago (so are practically new, especially as they haven't been worn for three or four years) and they felt comfortable, if I was a little tottery.

All we need now is Ofsted.  Ahem.

Z gets out the recipe books

The Sage and I went out together today.  It was largely a business meeting, but the person has a china collection which the Sage was invited to see, and he asked if I might come too, which was thoughtful of him.  However, it indicates an alarming degree of togetherness.  This is the third time in five days that he has included me in something he's doing and it's quite uncommon.  Not sure if it's good for us.  How am I to surprise and delight him in the evening if we have spent the day in each other's company?

It's his birthday next week, and my sister announced her intention of coming to visit for the celebrations.  The Sage has never particularly celebrated his birthday and has never encouraged me to arrange anything beyond an invitation to the immediate family.  However, this time, I thought that something should be done, and Weeza had the smart notion that I suggest we celebrate his fifty years as an auctioneer, and that we invite some of his oldest friends and also his fellow-collectors.  Remarkably, this worked and he's quite keen.  So, on Saturday week, we shall have a party.  Another party, that is.  And we have two invitations pending.  We've not had such a social whirl for a long time - whirl being a relative term, of course.  More like a slow twist than a dizzying twirl, but at this rate we might get back to the old days, when we had a circle of friends whom we often saw.  I'd love it.  I like cooking for a lot of people.

Common did or mean

I should make it very clear, there were some excellent teachers at that school, though there were also some poor and indifferent ones.  I may go back to the topic - in fact I'd like to, if only to think it through for myself.  I was quite happy there, and if I was unstimulated I didn't mind, I preferred to be left alone. My sister, however, was not happy at all and, looking back, it's hard to understand why our parents didn't move her to another school.

Today, I spent at the high school, first with a meeting between me, the head and the financial manager.  There's a lot happening, in preparation for becoming independent of the local authority.  We've not had our application accepted yet, but have been told that we've passed the preliminary stages.

After that, I spent the rest of the day in Year 9 music.  It's at the limit of what I can help with, sometimes a bit beyond, as it involves composition and I don't have the knowledge.  I was better with the afternoon group than the morning one, having picked up some useful tips.  In addition, the afternoon group are very friendly, if, on occasion, slightly too much so.  I'm too old and experienced to get myself into difficulties, and they are fine.  Teenagers are great, and it's interesting to see how a tricky personality can get drawn into a lesson and do some really good work.

This evening, I went round the Common on a trailer, drawn by a tractor.  There is an annual inspection, where a couple of dozen owners see what's going on and how it's being maintained.  It is a privately-owned common, where 400 acres are owned in 300 shares, known as 'goings', mainly by private individuals, but also by charities and the town council.  The Sage, who is a Common Reeve (voluntary management committee member) owns 10 goings; I went as a representative for his cousin.

A large part of the common is rented by the golf club, much of the rest is let for cattle grazing, and the rest is open to the public for walking on.  More management is required than you'd think; a lot of birch and oak saplings grow from seed and have to be cut down, as does gorse and various wild flowers, when in the wrong place.  At present, the main problem is dog-walkers on the golf course, who seem oblivious to the danger of beetling into the line of fire of a driven ball.  There's plenty of space for them to walk, it seems perverse to trot along the fairways.

Afterwards, we went for a drink at the golf club.  It was a lovely sociable atmosphere and I rather wished I played, or had the least inclination to, for the pleasure of going there.  When we finally rolled home, I couldn't be bothered to cook.  I put a frozen pizza in the oven.