Z gets up early and wonders why

I have to say, I think this whole early rising thing is overrated. Dawn is one thing, but after a few minutes admiring the sky you have hours to wait until the papers are delivered. And if you wake up any later than that, it's just dreary hanging about until anything interesting happens. No nice birdsong at this time of the year - the only noise outside comes from rooks - the sun isn't shining so I have to have the light on and, having already eaten breakfast the hours until lunch will yawn ahead hungrily by mid-morning.

Those who get up early tell me how much they get done. Well, that rather proves what I say. The only point of getting up early is to do the housework and other chores, therefore releasing the more interesting parts of the day for more interesting things. I'll agree that in spring and early summer it's delightful outside, if it isn't raining, but the rest of the year it's much more pleasant to stay in bed, thus being able to stay up later at night when there are people to talk to, online or in person. There's nothing to say at this time of day because nothing's happened, even if there was anyone about.

Of course, in very hot weather it can be useful to do physical work before the heat of the day, but that applies for a couple of weeks if we're lucky in this country, and how devoted does one have to be to physical work? After all, if you do it for a living you'll have to work in the heat of the day anyway, and for the rest of us, it's perfectly acceptable to say "what a lovely day, stuff mowing the lawn, I'm going to lie under a tree with a book and a cold drink." Mowing the lawn can't be done, of course, at an unsociable hour so is not possible before 9 am.

I'm going to twiddle my thumbs for the next hour or two until the day is worth starting.

Blame Dandelion - and the Sage, but that's a different story

Dandelion made a cake, you see, and decorated it and it looked so delicious that I, babysitting Squiffany and Pugsley for the day, suggested making one too. Or rather, a tray of cakes., because small children can get so involved, not only with the mixing but also of the putting of buncases in trays and spooning of cake mix in cases, and then of individual decoration.

Actually, the decoration was limited to green butter icing because that was the only colouring I had. Pugsley would have liked to make a gingerbread man too, but I discovered the golden syrup had an inch of dark goo in the bottom of the tin and it didn't meet even my casual attitude (today I fed my grandchildren yoghurt with a use-by date of 7th July; it was fine, I ate one myself a couple of days ago) to food longevity. I've promised to buy more tomorrow and, furthermore, to buy decorations- possibly of the sort described by those who know as "sprinkles" for future baking. I am, I admitted, a Bad Granny, but have vowed to reform my ways.

Just watching University Challenge, by the way, and am stunned to discover that Girton admits men nowadays. Where does that leave Girton calves, I wonder? Of no interest to me, sadly, as I'm nearly old enough to be an undergraduate's grandmother.

I was most upset to find that the Sage has been using one of Ro's bowls for chicken food. This has been a bone of much contention for years; that he uses various dishes from the cupboard for feeding his beloved bantams. I know how it happens; he uses a dish for leftovers, leaves it for them to polish off and, by the next time he visits a couple of hours later, it looks part of the furniture and he fills it with grain. In this way I've lost nearly all my ramekins and other small pots. But Ro, before he went to university, went shopping for essentials and among his purchases were two bowls, one green and one blue, which he's been very fond of and which he's used frequently. They disappeared from the cupboard so I assumed he'd taken them with him to Norwich, so I was rather stern when I found that one was filled with chick crumbs for the phantam. "How did that get there?" wondered the Sage - which rather irritated me I confess, as no one but he has fed the chickens. I also noticed another two dishes of mine. I examined Ro's bowl - it has three cracks and numerous chips round the outside edge. He vowed that a chicken couldn't do that damage to porcelain. I pointed out that it was pottery (no member of the Sage's family will confuse earthenware and bone china) so he said that a chicken's beak still couldn't damage glaze. "It was pristine the last time I saw it" I said richly, "so please explain the chips and cracks." He dropped the subject, but I found that the other earthenware dish also had cracks and a chip, although the porcelain one didn't. "When have I ever used one of your dishes before?" he asked dramatically. Oh bless him, that was a mistake - I would never have mentioned previous occasions again, but he did ask...and there were many of them.

I'm not sure if I said this - one of the bantams cackled triumphantly for a very long time after laying her egg last Friday. I grumbled for a while, but in the end even Dave was irritated. "Is this what men hear when their wives speak?" I enquired. Dave refused to answer, which was quite reply enough. Since I have been asking the Sage politely not to keep using my china for chicken's food bowls for years and he apparently is unaware of this, my voice is evidently a meaningless cackle. I have used the fact that this is Ro's bowl to sternly forbid* the Sage ever to it again.

I reminded the Sage of the congestion charge, and that spending Tuesday and Wednesday in London will mean two day's charges. "Will you sort it for me?" he asked, so I looked up how to pay. "What time are you leaving, by the way?" "About 3 o'clock" - "oh okay, you do realise that you're paying £8 for about half an hour in central London?" Once he'd considered the matter, he decided to go by train after all. I've had to pay £37 for a return ticket (off peak). It would probably have been much cheaper if he'd Thought it Through and discussed it with me earlier. Perversely, I'm mildly disappointed at losing a day of solitude. However, when the time comes (about 10 o'clock tomorrow night), I'll be awfully glad to see him home. Nevertheless, I'm planning a delicious meal for tomorrow night involving stuff he won't want to eat.

Ah, an update - I''ll be babysitting, so I'll have to prepare early and take the food through next door. Actually, now I'm babysitting, so I'll have to prepare early and take the food through next door. Is it worth it? I don't know. It may be that I'll prepare something we both like for Wednesday instead, on the grounds that the Sage being home is an unexpected treat. Champagne, do you think?

*a split infinitive indeed. So?

Dilly is cheeky

The family came over for that barbecue and the weather obligingly followed the forecast and was warm and dry. Zerlina was sporting a black eye. "What happened" "She was rattling the stair gate as usual and then there was a thud" said her mother gloomily. Little z seemed quite unbothered by it, anyway. I'd asked Weeza to pick up some lager on the way over - the 15 large cans cost a fiver. "They were on offer, £5 if you spent £35" she explained. "Supermarkets doing their bit to curb the sale of cheap alcohol," observed Ro drily.

I don't think I mentioned, Zerlina stayed overnight with Dilly and family on Thursday. Weeza had an appointment near here and they were going to babysit, and then they suggested keeping her for the night. Weeza was dubious, and finally decided to stay with us so that she'd be on hand if z woke up very early and was upset. In addition, it saved driving home and back here the next day. Everyone had a wonderful time. Zerlina adores her cousins and Weeza was able to relax and chat and enjoy being cooked for. She said it felt like a holiday, especially since z was so happy and entertained. The Sage didn't have any cousins and nor did I, not that I saw anyway, and my children's cousins are quite a bit older than they are, so we've never known much of the enjoyment for children of an extended family.

Dilly's dad's put his back out and was hobbling painfully along using a walking pole when they came over here yesterday. He's very uncomfortable and can't sit or lie down without a good deal of pain. I remember dishing my back some years ago - I had to sleep on the floor for two nights as even a firmish bed wasn't flat enough for me. It was very tiring as I couldn't rest or relax and only standing up straight was relatively pain-free, and I was so tired that was the last thing I wanted; so I can sympathise with him. Dilly went to a car boot sale today and came home with various goodies. "I nearly bought a zimmer frame for you or dad to use when you're here" she said pertly. "It was quite a bargain price." Little rascal.

Z's Saturday

I keep forgetting that I'm going out tonight. I remembered yesterday and put my ticket in my bag, but it was only half an hour ago when I was planning dinner, having invited the family round for a barbecue tomorrow (hope over experience, indeed) which will use all the food I'd bought for the weekend, that I remembered, with a little jolt (slight overreaction there, but I plead involuntariness), tonight's concert. So I've asked the Sage if he wouldn't mind cooking his own dinner and I'll eat out.

Some years I book for many of the Snape Prom concerts but this year only four. It used to be that they were my annual holiday - I couldn't really get away overnight without a great deal of preparation - but now that isn't the case. I booked rather late and so some concerts were sold out, but I've chosen a variety of jazz and a classical concert. I don't quite know what to expect tonight but that's what's interesting. I'm going on my own so have no one to please but myself.

I don't think I've mentioned that Al is having some major necessary work done on the shop. The upstairs sash window needed to be replaced and he was having some rotten wood cut out of the door frame at the same time, as well as some minor work done on the brickwork and the outside repainted. As so often happens when you start work on an old building, rather more rot was discovered than had been apparent and, as usual, most of it had been caused by bodged work many years ago, in this case when the shop front and door was being put in some 60 years ago. It meant that his iron-framed canopy was resting on the door frame which had been inserted in front of the original and has rot in, and not on any structurally solid part of the building at all. This is going to be an expensive operation - but there we go, he's not had to spend anything much there in the nearly 7 years he's had the shop.

Life is endlessly entertaining there, right in the middle of town by the market square. Because Ben the Builder had a ladder up against the side of the shop in the road, he'd put traffic cones against the pavement the other side to stop people parking (there are double yellow lines there anyway which are generally ignored). Yesterday, a woman came in the shop "the silver Audi isn't yours, is it?" Al and I both confirmed it wasn't. The owner had parked it a foot from the kerb (nicely away from the cones) and she couldn't get past. She sighed and went and got in her car again and started to reverse. Al and I heard a shout from Ben. She had reversed into his ladder, which was clearly visible and which she had presumably meant to miss. Fortunately, it didn't tip over. As she and Ben were discussing the matter, a woman scuttled along, head down, got into the Audi and hastily drove away. Could have been very nasty, but fortunately was quite amusing instead.

I just had another phone call about Ro's car. The Sage advertised it for sale and it went the same evening. Pretty old, no road tax but a full MOT, diesel, reliable, so not surprising. I suppose we'll be fending off phone calls for a while to come. I'm not sure why the Sage put the ad in for 2 weeks - a car always goes at once if you've priced it to sell. Anyway, Ro is now carless and dropped in to the conversation the other day that now he's 25 (and past the dangerous young driver age) I might put him on my insurance. Cheeky child - he's the one who chose to be carless.

Bringing on the wall, Day 21 - Dave is disconcerted when Z loses her temper

Good to have a day when there wasn't any likelihood of rain. Dave worked steadily all morning, but I had a few interruptions and so didn't get as much done as yesterday and we decided not to have a final mixing of mortar as it would have taken a long time to use it up.

During the morning, when the Sage was out for a while, we were talking about the days we're free next week. Dave had already said he couldn't manage Monday "and the Sage is busy on Tuesday and Wednesday". "This is the first I've heard of it," I said, startled. "Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned it," he worried - "no, he should have mentioned it to me!" The air turned blue for a while (sorry, Dave) as I gave my opinion on the matter. Then I asked if he knew where the Sage was going? "He said something about picking china up" said Dave, who was playing it neutral, straight and cool - I said "ah, take some of that back, he's going to London on Tuesday. I unsay the effing. Hang on, I don't know about Wednesday though."

I explained my reasoning regarding getting cross. I do it while the Sage isn't there, usually when I'm on my own (sorry, Dave). Then, when he returns, I ask pleasantly what is going on? This is also a failsafe against making an embarrassing mistake. So I asked. It turns out that the Sage is planning to stay in London overnight and then do another business call on the way home. "So that's why, when I said last week that I'd like to come to London with you, that you were tying yourself in knots trying to put me off without telling me why?" He tried to deny it, but I know him too well. "When would you have told me?" Monday. Hm. I chose to laugh and kiss him.

Much as I dislike the Sage's habit of keeping secret things that he knows I need to know, for as long as possible (and he'd hate it if I did it to him), I'm quite looking forward to a couple of days to myself. My main quandary is always this - do I use his absence to not bother to cook, or do I cook something that I love and he doesn't?

Anyway, the pictures, one from each side of the wall. Today's ornamental brick marks about the half-way point in this main section - in fact, I've just been out to do some rough measuring.


The first section is about 18' long and that's done apart from the capping, which the Sage and Dave are talking of doing while I'm away in a couple of weeks. Today's ornamental brick comes in at about 24' of the main length and more than half of the bricks are laid of the next 6' - 10 rows out of 16 - with about 25 bricks to fill in between the two ornamental bricks. Then there's another 18' virtually unstarted of this length. It's possible to get that done in the next month if we have about 10 sessions and, since pillars have to be built up to; that is, you can't just build a pillar but have to stage the bricks either side for support, we'll have to go round the corner as well. There's about another 35' of that section, most of which won't be done until next year. Once we get to September, the time available for bricklaying will diminish drastically.

Dave and I (we haven't mentioned it to the Sage yet - well, he was out at the time - think there should be a party this year when we finish bricklaying - will you come?

Bringing on the wall, Day 20 - Dave is taken in by an Imposter

Things went very well again. I had spent a long time yesterday assiduously scrubbing bricks - all the ones lying loose which, fortuitously, would be about the number needed for the morning bearing in mind that Dave would be fitting another ornamental brick, which takes a long time. The forecast was iffy but generally we were hopeful of a morning's work.

Imagine my surprise darlings, if you will, when I read Dave's blog, which seemed to have been taken over by someone writing in the style of a lesser-lettered Z. Yes, I know. My mouth would have dropped open if I had any slack-jawed tendencies. You may require a comparison - here you go. Now really - is that, for one minute, anything like me?

Dave was wearing a rather fine pith helmet when he arrived and looked slightly out of place in a Norfolk garden rather than a Cameroon jungle. He cowered slightly when he saw me, which was quite inexplicable. I gave him a cup of Earl Grey, which had rather a lot of tea leaves floating in it unfortunately and he gradually relaxed enough to remove his "protective headgear" as he called it and start work. We were doing well until 11 o'clock when the first drops of rain fell. We covered the mortar and sheltered under a tree. It wasn't a long shower and we finished at 12.30, pleased with the morning's work. Since I counted the bricks (I didn't mean to, but when you stack you can't help counting and multiplying, can you?) I knew that we'd laid 67, plus the ornamental brick and the half-bricks around it.

Pictures? Of course. Here you are.


I've mentioned that the bricks are not all exactly rectangular - here's an example. The top brick is sitting on another which is the reason it looks larger, but you can see that there is a definite curve. Some of them are more bowed than that, and the lower one is cracked but not broken - all part of the hand-made charm. The wall will look old and weathered from the start, which is just what we want. Furthermore, it nicely disguises and excuses any mistakes we make.

Dave is busy having fun, so no bricklaying today

The good news of yesterday night was a post on Honey's blog to say that Pema is joyfully born and is healthy and strong. She's received many messages of congratulations - thanks so much for thinking of her and wishing her well.

Yet again, I'm reminded how necessary it is for me to take on obligations. If not, I'd do very little at all, as this morning indicates. Even I, however, am starting to think that I've been ambling round lazily or sitting reading the paper and listening to music for almost long enough and am considering doing something useful. There are several options. I have a letter to write, which I will certainly do at some point today - but that hardly counts, because I have promised to do it today and I am quite reliable at fulfilling obligations.

Otherwise, I have a whole lot of stuff to sort out to hand over to someone - it's probably 2 hours solid work, plus a list - an aide memoire - to write which will probably be added to over a couple of days. Housework is an ever-present option - this is not the sort of house where it's ever finished.
And I am considering cleaning bricks. Not all the piles of bricks were deposited on their pallets, which means that they've been sitting on the ground for the past year or so and the bottom ones have to be scrubbed. This takes the Sage a long time. He's sweet-natured and doesn't mind, but it seems fair for me to take a turn at some time.

I wonder which, if any of them, I'll do. Of course, there's time in the day for me to do some of all of them. Heh heh. And how likely is that?

I've just been reading in the paper how schools and nurseries have been advised to stop small children sharing crayons and toys during the flu outbreak. Does anyone in government know anything at all about small children? Have they ever been in a state primary school? The children sit around tables doing things together, not at rows of desks. Pre-school age children are tactile and cuddly and instinctively share things and hold hands. You can't stop them, certainly not for months on end. You can be diligent about hygiene, but I suspect most nurseries are already - you only have to spend a short time in a public lavatory to notice how many people don't wash their hands at all, or give the most perfunctory rinse. Those wretched unhygienic hot air driers don't help at all.

Bringing on the wall, Day 19 - I rely on Dave for information

We got a lot done in our 2 1/2 hours today. Not that I joined in from the start, as I was looking after the children until 10 o'clock. The first photo shows (to the right about from the yellow spirit level) what was done today.
The second shows what we've done so far.

Dave is busy tomorrow and the Sage has a couple of things on too so, weather permitting, we'll be back on the job on Thursday. I'll be filling up the lower levels to 9 courses (not including the footings) and Dave will get on with the next decorative brick and the higher ones. Then I'll move on to the other side of the pillar so that Dave can finish that off. The Sage is kept busy supplying mortar and cleaned and wetted bricks.

During the morning, Dave mentioned that the Sage has now decided to have pillars at the ends: that is, that we'll add a couple of extra courses of bricks on each pillar before putting on the cappings. Dave suggested this some weeks ago but the Sage reserved judgement. He still has said nothing to me. I'm waiting, I'm patient. When he finally refers to it in passing, he'll have completely forgotten that he hadn't consulted me at all stages. I'm used to it. On this occasion it doesn't matter at all as it's his choice, but it would be all the same if we'd definitely decided together about something and then he'd changed his mind. One has to make a decision about how much this sort of thing matters, as a principle. The simple thing is that he spent 36 years as a bachelor and he became used to pondering things through by himself. If a further 36 as a married man hasn't changed him, nothing will. Having said that, he has improved. Time was, he'd not have talked about it to me in the first place about the original decision, let alone before he changed his mind.

Honey and Pema

I've been reading Honey’s blog for a long time and, although she'd not updated for ages, her life had taken a turn for the better after great distress and difficulties and she had sounded optimistic and positive about the changes she had made. It was shocking to read, a few weeks ago, that she was very ill with breast cancer. She was also 5 months pregnant with her baby Pema, who will be born by Caesarean section on 28th July.

Honey is going through a very tough time and is on morphine - Pema will be born with symptoms of addiction and will need treatment for that as well as the care needed for a baby born 10 weeks early. Honey is receiving wonderful treatment and consideration and all possible is being done to ensure that she and Pema will be kept together, bearing in mind their medical needs.

Do think of them both on the 28th please, and of Honey's two older children and Pema's father Mr Man. The knowledge that candles are being lit all over the world for them on that day means a lot to Honey - will you join in please?

I'll republish this post when I write another, and keep it at the top until Pema is safely born.

All the best, Honey - let one of the kisses you give your beautiful baby be from us.

Z is sensible. No, really, I am.

It rained again, so Dave didn't come over and I went to Norwich instead. Weeza wants to buy a sewing machine and we went to inspect a couple of models she's likely to choose between and then we had lunch together. The sun came out for a couple of hours, but then there was another hard rain shower - I was driving along the dual carriageway at the time and all the cars had to slow right down as the visibility was so poor.

In other news ... no, that's about it. I'm doing some serious unwinding at present. I feel a bit mean actually, though only a bit. The church runs a holiday club during the summer holidays for a week, starting today - there's a paid youth worker and several volunteers to help. The youth worker developed flu a couple of weeks ago and won't be taking part so they're quite short of helpers. I haven't offered. Indeed, I've said I'm sorry but I'm not offering to help. I thought about it and decided it was just too much, I needed a break and I'm taking one. It would mean a whole week I wouldn't be able to do any bricklaying - true, Dave and the Sage could get on without me, but I realise that I've been banking on taking several weeks off from most of my usual out-of-family obligations and the thought of gearing myself up to doing whatever Bible-based activities are planned (not my cup of tea anyway) is not at all tempting, even to help out really lovely people, most of whom are friends of mine. Furthermore, of course, once you've taken part once, it is a given that you will be heavily involved forever. And the next thing is that I'd be asked to help with the weekly youth club. I can't take on a single more thing and that's that. I don't know if I'm being unreasonable, but I'm being self-protective and sensible, albeit with a mildly guilty conscience.

Lightweights

Dave still has a certain amount to learn when it comes to teasing. This morning in church (on fourth Sundays there is a breakfast café between two short services) I read a headline to friend Anthony (a retired church minister, as is Dave) "Women are getting more beautiful". "Hope for you yet, then," he replied genially. "...while men remain as aesthetically unappealing as their caveman ancestors" I quoted back at him. Teasing is more vicious in the Church of England than among the gentle Methodists, i think.

However, his mention of a house attached to a brewery reminded me of our children's weddings. We had a party here after both Al's and Weeza's wedding, with marquees, a hog roast and a ceilidh band each time. Our village pub (which has its own micro brewery in the garage) provided kegs of beer and by the end there was some left. A clearing-up party the next day still didn't finish it all off, so for the next few days it was most enjoyable to stroll outside clutching a beer mug and fill it from the barrel. It's the best way to drink it and I rather wish that we could find excuses to do it regularly. Sadly, the 40 pints (I think) that a keg contains is far more than we could manage to drink while it's still fresh, and most of our friends drink little more than we do.

Z winds down a notch too far

A delightful family lunch out today - Al was working and Dilly and the children had other things to do, but the other 6 of us went to a pub not far from Weeza's house - attached to a brewery, it has good food and drink and is popular. Very enjoyable - the Sage and I have been thinking it's Sunday evening as we feel far too relaxed for a Saturday.

Mind you, i came home and spent a long time mowing the lawn, because the weeds from the area around the original lawn, now being mown into submission, had grown quicker than the grass and were tall and getting tough.

Ro remembered this evening (we dropped him off at his lodgings in Norwich) that he hadn't taken his cakes back with him. I've wrapped them individually (I kept one back for the Sage) and have put them in the freezer for next time we see him. He didn't realise iced cakes could be frozen and was most pleased. I think the little sugar flowers may go soft but it won't matter.

I haven't looked at the music for tomorrow and I haven't picked up my clarinet for at least a couple of months. Indeed yes, I should practise. Odds are I won't and will just wing it tomorrow morning. After all, what's to go wrong? It'll help if I know the songs of course, maybe I should check that. And look at the music to see if I can transpose at sight or will have to write it out. Oh dear. Suddenly I feel less relaxed.

Bringing on the wall, Day 18 - and Ro's birthday

A sunny morning - we used the last of the cement so it was a short one as far as bricklaying was concerned, but things are looking good. None of us has much planned for the next few weeks so, weather permitting, we should be able to crack on a bit.

Here's the state of play today.


And a picture of Tilly, looking plump.

And, with his permission, one of Ro on his 25th birthday. Dilly and the children made the cakes and they were as tasty as they looked. Ro was very pleased.

And so ad infinitum

Today is the anniversary of our move to this house 23 years ago. I think that also makes it the 23rd anniversary of Prince Andrew's and Fergie's wedding, I seem to remember it being on television while I was doing last-minute packing.

I remember the date because it was the day before Ro's 2nd birthday. We had exchanged contracts and completion day was 1st August, but we offered to let our buyers have the keys a week early so that they could move at their leisure. We'd had a lot of work done here and we'd told the workmen ages ago when their deadline was, but they didn't believe us. They thought we'd give them an extra day at least. However, I was adamant that we would not move on Ro's birthday and that we would give Barry and Rachel the week we'd promised. They rigged up an emergency electrical supply from the bungalow next door (then empty; it's where Al and family now live), we had the Aga and, since our new bed, El's and Ro's were being delivered the next day, we slept on our old one (to be Al's), Ro slept in his cot and the other children slept on the floor. Roy the painter came in for the next few weeks to finish decorating and all the bits and pieces were completed around us.

We'll probably be here forever - the Sage was born here and would certainly like to live out his days here, but that's not the reason for the title of this post. Fleas are the reason.

I mentioned a while ago that all the rabbits that have been making merry all over the garden and field had given Tilly fleas for about the first time in her life - they don't like her thin coat - and a few weeks ago we gave her a good spray with a product that is supposed to kill all the fleas over a few days and then protect from reinfestation for 6 weeks. What was interesting was that the larger fleas all died or left her first (I've been doing a search and destroy job every time she leaves her blanket) and that they've been getting smaller and smaller. The tiniest fleas are the hardest to crush and kill, so presumably they're the toughest. I've just sprayed her again in the hope of getting rid of the last few.

While I'm on the itchy subject, the easiest way to be sure of killing any fleas you pick up, since they can be hard to crush, is to put a blob of hand cream on a tissue. As you catch each little beastie, wipe it into the blob, making sure it's covered so can't jump. At the end, fold it up around the fleas and that's got 'em.

When we'd first sprayed her and lots of sick-looking beasts were leaving her, I couldn't get to sleep that night. Every time I shut my eyes I could see fleas. And I don't like killing things, even pests. It's not been at all pleasant.

Bringing on the wall, Day 17 - nearly 3 weeks later

It's been a long gap since we last did any bricklaying and we have acknowledged how quickly the summer is passing. We still hope to get the long part of the wall finished this year, but much depends on the weather. You don't get a lot done in 2 1/2 hours, which is about our working time of a morning. However, if we get some dry weather in August there's a good chance of cracking on and getting a good stretch done in the next few weeks.

Dave fitted another ornamental brick, whilst I started at the bottom of the next section. Next time, Dave may begin the next pillar so that I've got that to work to - he has to be careful of his back so is better with the higher sections, which I'm too short to complete. I suppose I should do the lower part of the pillar actually.

It was sunny all morning and very hot some of the time - lovely after all the rain we've had recently.



Yes, the summer house does need work done on it. That is not scheduled for this year, unfortunately. There's not time.


During the morning, I phoned friends to confirm that I'd pick them up to take them to our lunch engagement. The phone was answered by one of the sisters, sounding woeful. They aren't feeling too well and it may be flu - just in case, they've cancelled lunch. I'm very sorry for them, but also relieved that the symptoms showed now rather than after I spend an hour and a half in the car with them. At least it means that, not having to pick them up, I can look after Zerlina in the morning while Weeza goes for a haircut. Being used to a London hairdresser, she's a bit apprehensive at the prospect of sampling the local salon - she still has her London Ways at heart. Though she doesn't miss the Tube or the crowds.

Bringing on the ... oh, it's raining

Indeed, I dressed to bricklay this morning, but then the rain started. So we'll give it another go tomorrow. The forecast had been dry in the morning and rain by 4 pm, which is no doubt the reason it's now the best it's been all day. Rather worryingly, because I value my idle nature, I felt obliged to cycle in to town a couple of hours ago even though it wasn't quite dry, because I was almost out of fruit and plain yoghurt. Virtuous isn't a word adequate to describe me. Hard to think of one that is, actually.

I was ordering some office supplies for the Sage the other day and needed to spend a few more pounds for free postage, so I bought myself a foot rest - an adjustable sloping plastic job. I've been trying to work out how to manage this unobtrusively for a while - with my little short stubby legs, the chairs provided at meetings are always a bit high for me to be comfortable, especially if I have to have papers on my lap, so I tend to cross my legs which isn't a good idea. Legs uncrossed, the papers (and occasionally the coffee cup) fall all over the floor and my toes only just reach the ground. Now I've decided to be quite upfront about it and take my foot rest about with me. It's a bit bigger than I expected, measuring about 14"x18", but one gets away with things if one displays aplomb. Or maybe I mean panache. Should that have a circumflex accent somewhere? Hm. Maybe it's all right in English.

Now wash your hands

I woke up this morning to hear a chap disputing that the moon landing 40 years ago happened - missed some of his arguments, but it seemed that he was arguing that the photos had to be fake because of radiation and no condensation. Or something. Gosh, don't we all feel gullible now?

And then a health expert and a government spokesman were tying themselves in verbal knots regarding advice to pregnant women and flu (I really want to write 'flu. but that seems just too pedantic; actually my fingers type ful, because that's more naturally instinctive if you touch-type, but that's another matter). First the expert said keep out of crowded places, then when pressed, backtracked completely. No, he didn't advocate not going to work in a busy environment, nor not going to work on the Tube. Just wash your hands a lot. "So, the advice to pregnant women is the same as to anyone else?" "er, yes".

Thing is, if they start saying don't go to crowded places, then tourist spots and busy shops will suffer, and they'll get wrong, as we say in Norfolk, for having panic-mongered.

Then I looked at my watch. It had stopped, several minutes before. Just about when the conspiracy-theorists had been talking about the faked moon landing. I checked that the little winder wasn't pulled out, which it wasn't, pulled it out, corrected the time and pushed it back, and it started again. Spooky.

After a couple of weeks off, we're due to start bricklaying again tomorrow. "Sunshine and showers" said the weather forecast, unhelpfully. Right now, we've got the sunshine. Later, the Sage is going off to fetch china for the next sale in October, to be photographed before it's put into storage.

The Lost Teabowl. Not that it actually was.

Yes, the sale. There have, over the past 25 years, been remarkably few problems. Once, a good friend helped the Sage unpack the china - a piece was missing. In something of a panic, the Sage drove home - rather more than an hour later, he arrived back again, without it. It was a tiny miniature coffee pot, very rare and valuable, about 2 inches tall. It was found - he'd packed it in tissue paper inside a teapot (full sized) and the friend hadn't realised it was there and had put the paper aside. Nowadays, I'd have told the Sage that he'd never make the mistake of leaving a piece behind and searched first, but we were young and impulsive in those days and we did panic. I've never taken part in the packing or unpacking - it's asking for trouble when two people are involved and neither knows exactly what the other has done.

Another time, someone put a teabowl down too hard and broke it. Poor chap, he'd just got his first pair of bifocals and had misjudged the distance to the table. He was awfully embarrassed, but the matter was discussed amicably and he paid for the piece, had it repaired and sold it for just as much - it was already cracked and a good repair didn't reduce its value. It's the only time an item has ever been damaged at a sale.

On Friday, the viewing had been going on for more than an hour when someone asked if there was a mistake in the catalogue? Lot 43 was listed as a teabowl and saucer, but there was only a saucer on view, although the condition report said that the bowl was slightly stained. Careful searching of the boxes found nothing. Was it a mistake in cataloguing? I was going to go in search of the internet, when Weeza reminded me that she could look it up on her phone. We have pay-as-you-go phones, so such splendidness is beyond our ken - and indeed, the picture showed the teabowl. The Sage said he'd withdraw the piece, apologise to the owner and sell it with no vendor's commission next time (it was no big deal, only worth £150) but we were both upset. Then I decided to check everything carefully - remembering that the Sage is not careless, so more likely that the piece hadn't been carelessly left out when he packed up several weeks ago.

When we arrived, the tables and chairs were all set out, but not quite as we wanted them, so we spent half an hour getting it all right, so we were only just ready when the first people arrived to view. And - this was the real problem as it turned out - someone came to ask the Sage's advice on a couple of pieces of china. If not for that, I'd have got him to check carefully the layout against the catalogue. As it was, we were too busy. Now, the first 8 lots each had between 2 and 8 items in them, of damaged china. When I got to Lot 4, I could see at once the missing teabowl. The Sage had run out of numbers and put on a separate 4 and 3, and the 3 had fallen off. So it was unsurprising that he hadn't realised. And neither of us had checked china against catalogue. Which we normally always do.

I felt a bit jagged after that and had a cup of strong black coffee. Which was awfully good of me, as I went into the unstaffed bar (with permission) to make it. I could have had anything. Anything. Gosh, I'm professional. Anyway, no harm done and we didn't fuss and it's taught us yet another lesson. Although I was a bit shook up. Nevertheless, when adding up totals at the end, I was no end pleased that the books balanced, to the penny. This doesn't always happen, especially when I have to count money and give change. I'm not good with big notes, I lose track sometimes. And I can only add up by hand, I get awfully confused with a calculator.

Thank you so much for looking up hip resurfacing for me, I really appreciate it. You are so kind. I met a woman, who came along with a friend of ours (the Sage and I have both known him far longer than we've known each other!) who remembered me and my sister from school, which was a bit embarrassing as I didn't remember her - neither did Wink, when I spoke to her later, which probably means she's in between our ages ... anyway, let's face it, we lived in the nicest house in the village by far and everyone must have known of our family, although Wink and I were quite unaware of that. Towards the end of the viewing, I was walking limpily and she recognised the symptom of dodgy hip - so she told me of a friend who'd had his hip resurfaced some 4 years ago, by the chap I mentioned in yesterday's comments, and it's been a resounding success. I've heard of the operation, but I understood that the long-term results are as yet unknown as it's only been done for about the last decade, and the technique is still improving. For this reason, it's not likely to be available on the NHS.

I have no problem with that - after all, how much do people spend on a luxury cruise, on cosmetic surgery, on a new kitchen or a car? Or perhaps on a painting or piece of china, come to that. I told the Sage, after I'd looked it up. "You can't put a price on health" he said with the light of hope in his eyes. He's so protective, you see, he hates it that he hasn't been able to do anything to make me better. I'm not inclined to bother my doctor right now - I think the local surgery is probably quite busy enough with people asking about flu symptoms, but I will toddle along sometime in the next few months. It may not be suitable and it may be better done in a year or two, but I'm reasonably hopeful.

Info?

Does anyone know much, from your own or a friend's experience, about hip resurfacing?

Do Z and the Sage feel lucky? Well, do we?

All went well thank you - although there was something of a hiccup at one stage when we thought we'd lost a piece. I may tell you about it, too tired now, I don't want to relive anything worrying.

What's really lovely is that all our family help out. Weeza and Zerlina came over in the early afternoon and Phil drove up from Ipswich where he works (he usually goes to work by bike and train, but took the car for once) and took z home for bed so that Weeza would be free for the sale itself. Ro came by train from Norwich after work to do the bidder registration and accounts, and Al drove over, also after work, to 'show' the lots during the sale - that is, to hold each item up for potential bidders to see during the sale. Afterwards, he left to finish clearing up the shop and get ready for the morning and to put in his orders - he arrived home after 11pm, having started work at 8am. Dilly had her own children to care for, but let Tilly out a few times during the day and fed her. We're so lucky to have such a family.

We're also lucky to have such obliging bantams. The Sage took a tray of eggs to the shop for sale this morning, so when I suggested bacon and eggs for lunch there was only one in the rack in the kitchen. He went out to see if there were any more laid. He was several minutes. Then he returned and gave me two eggs. One was still warm. "She laid it for me while I waited," he explained, grinning.

There was just one glassful of wine left in the bottle. We shared it, but funnily enough both our glasses were rather more than half full.