Z has been made much of and is sleepy as a consequence

Ooh, birthdays should come more than once a year, although I suppose one has to be the Queen or Paddington Bear. I have been properly pampered and am slightly worse for wear - only slightly, because I'm not correcting typos as I type; that necessity being an ominous sign of non-sobriety.

Seriously, I wonder what teetotallers do to let their hair down? I don't doubt that they can and do, I'm just not sure how.

My internet connection is dreadfully slow tonight, after several weeks of being very well-behaved. Maybe everyone else is blogging at this very minute.

Um. I'm quite relaxedly cheerful and not capable of coherent thought. I'm due in a music lesson tomorrow, where the pupils will be invited to start work on an arrangement of Coldplay's 'Clocks' or the Kaiser Chiefs' 'I predict a riot'. Yes indeed. Neither of them a favourite of mine. I am sorry to have moved away from Cameo's 'Word Up', which I like. Anyway, I'm off for a bath. I've new stuff to use, including a fabulously soft and long bathrobe and I am too tired to type more.

Oh, when you've got something stuck in your throat, it's true that dry bread takes it down, even if it hurts to swallow. My throat is still sore, but recognisably as an after-effect, not because something's still there.

Goodnight, darlings, You are lovely.

Z is no longer a slave to duty (not that she was ever a pirate of Penzance)

The trouble is with writing a post in the morning that things happen during the day and I have the twitch to write in the evening. Of course, the trouble with writing late at night is that I'm tired out or I've written the post in my mind already, so don't have to actually put it down on virtual paper, or have forgotten all about it already. But 7.20 in the evening when, unusually, we've already had dinner, should come somewhere in between - if we disregard that I've already written today's post that is, and you indulge me. You don't have to indulge me of course, and I won't even know if you haven't, unless you write me a forthright note to tell me so.

Jonathan rang to say that he would be taking one cow back and bringing another to keep Big Pinkie company. If they happened to be on the Ups and Downs, could I put the gate across the beck, please, to keep them there? I went out. They weren't there. I went back to fetch a few apples to attract them and returned - they were there, 50 yards away on the field. I moved the barrier and went to give them their apples. They were both awfully pleased and stuck their big rasping tongues out as I held the apple halves on my palm. I know not to leave a finger sticking up for them to bite accidentally, but they drool a whole lot more than horses. They weren't inclined to follow me, but, as I looked back, 169 was licking Pinkie's shoulder affectionately, a move that Pinkie reciprocated a minute later,

Jonathan and Brian arrived and the cows thundered over the field to greet them. I fetched another apple and some carrots. 169 is expecting her calf in a few weeks, so she's going back to the farm, and we'll miss her. "She used to be a bit wild, you've gentled her" observed Jonathan. I gave Pinkie the credit. 169 obediently went into the truck as 202 came out. Pinkie and she looked at each other and were not at all pleased to see each other. They both lowered their heads and I took a few more steps back. I'd already recommended to Tilly that she wait outside the field. Pinkie and 202 weren't happy. We watched as they went towards each other and pushed heads and necks against each other. Then 202 moved away and Pinkie followed, sniffing 202's bottom. I think this was asserting her authority. Then they both started to graze, still tense but no longer actively unfriendly. It was interesting.

I did have my relax on the sofa, but the Sage took an earlier train home than he'd booked (you can usually do that, as long as you okay it with the inspector or the office) as he'd not bought anything. The description of damage in the catalogue was not incorrect but didn't quite tell the full extent, so he didn't bid. He went back into town to pay money back into the bank. Having run it past him, I rang the hospital to confirm my appointment. "There's your x-ray at 2.30" she said. "Really? That isn't mentioned on the appointment, only the consultant at 3" I said. "It should have been," she said apologetically. It's still all right, I can leave my lunch a bit early. I rang my friends to tell them I could take them but not take them home afterwards. That's all right, they can take the bus. I feel nervous already. I already regret doing this - yes sure, right thing to do and all that.

I screwed up somewhat yesterday (as every day as you know). I emailed my apologies for a meeting tomorrow, as we're going to Weeza's. It was a jocular apology, explaining that I'd had a better offer for my birthday. Only after I'd sent it did I realise that it went to every school in the pyramid - 15 or so - as well as the people on the committee. I had to follow up with a 'whoops' after-message. I will put a brave 'pfft' face on it and just sigh heavily in the background. Anyway, giving apologies for a meeting in favour of fun is a step forward for me and a sign that duty won't come first all the time in future.

Z is alone

I peer disconsolately into the mirror. I'm looking tired, which at my time of life equates with old. I try a smile. The Frankie Howerd jowls turn into thick creases round my eyes, which remain flat and unamused. I reflect that I will never look at my face without make-up on again, ever.

I'm not feeling entirely at my best. On Saturday, I got a bit of carrot stuck in my throat, which is the result of eating a lot of raw food and never properly chewing. The bit of carrot is still there. It's not moved up or down, and for the last couple of days has given me a sore throat and, since last night, a headache. This seems an unlikely side-effect, but I rarely have a headache and I went to bed with one, woke with it in the night, hadn't shed it by this morning and it all seems connected with the general throat-hurtiness.

However, today's post cheered me somewhat, as it contained several birthday cards and a present, and a postcard/birthday card from Dave. It also brought an appointment at the hospital in Norwich for next week, with a requirement for me to phone to confirm or change it. Ominously, they want my credit card number at the same time so that I won't have to trouble to pay the bill before I leave. Although the consultant will send me a bill separately. Lovely. At least I have a name now, so I can look him up before I go.

I'm all alone for the day, which is quite unusual. Even if I don't see Dilly and the children, they're usually there and so is the Sage, bustling in and out - he's always busy. But he left early this morning for London, and Dilly came in happily a couple of hours ago, saying that she'd decided to take the children back to the coast for the rest of the week, because the weather's so lovely. Her parents went to visit them and they stayed on in the tent, so it's still up and this (for Dilly is immensely polite) will save them having to take it down. Pugsley will have nursery school tomorrow and so she's planning to come back early, spend most of the day here, then go back again. Additionally, Squiffany is going to be visited at home by her teacher tomorrow afternoon, so they do need to be here. And, as Dilly said charmingly, they want to see me on my birthday.

Feeling stale, flat and unprofitable as I am, I'm most inclined to curl up on the sofa all day with an array of books and a big bowl of fruit, but the sun is shining and I mustn't succumb to this sort of self-indulgence. At least, not before lunch.

Z is very warm

Al and Dilly and the children had a lovely time in North Norfolk. When they left on Thursday, it was extremely windy and they had a lot of difficulty putting up their tent, which rather worried Pugsley, who imagined losing it in the Wash, like an odd sock or the Crown Jewels. However, after a day or so things improved and they've had fine weather. Al said that he never remembers being on Holkham beach in such perfect sunshine before.

It's been even hotter today. Still is. People have started picking the sloes on our hedge by the road, which is good to see. I like to think of the quantities of sloe gin being made in the village. There's not a lot else you can do with sloes, after all, because they're splendidly astringent. Al shut up shop early and was home by 4 o'clock, having been shut altogether yesterday; that having been his summer holiday. The Sage was in town when someone stopped and looked at the closed door in dismay. "He's not closed down for good, has he?" Not having just spent several thousand pounds on doing the outside of the shop up, he hasn't. I've put - just this moment - my camera in my bag and will take a photo if I'm in town tomorrow.

Tomorrow, the Sage is going to an auction in London so I'll do ... well, probably not a lot. Not if it's sunny. I'll pretend it's still the summer holidays and lounge around, once I've done essentials. Essentials don't comprise a lot, if I'm honest.

The phantam prepares to flit

Tomorrow, the Sage is going to release the phantam. Here's a picture of her - I put one of her up when she was a chick, which I'll look for and link to if you like, although it was much like any other chick. Not a good photo, but she was very frightened and was running back and forth along the further corner of her run. Her foster mother went back with the other bantams a while ago, because she was taking most of the food but she hasn't become very tame, even with the Sage, and she's anxious to get out. She does look much more like a young hen pheasant than a bantam, but she's definitely a hybrid. We don't think she'll settle with her aunts and she'll be best simply let go, and hope that she'll come back to roost and feed to the extent she's comfortable with. The cock pheasant has been keeping her company from outside the run already and, since she's far too young to interest him as a mate, he evidently recognises her as a fellow pheasant.

The new village school opened today. Squiffany will be a pupil, but as one among those of the new reception year who will go part time to start with, she will start next week. It's very exciting for everyone concerned; this school has been a twinkle in everyone's eye for a long time. I really thought it would be built in my time as a governor, it having been considerably delayed by then, and I left three years ago.

I have to say, from the road at any rate, it is not an attractive building. An odd mix of different coloured bricks or wooden cladding in its various sections, it doesn't look very welcoming as a school or very modern as a design. More a product of the 1970s, perhaps, which is no great compliment. I haven't walked across the fields to see what it looks like from the other side, and at least the classrooms will look out onto playing fields and a farmer's field. The pretty Victorian school building it replaces was far too small however, with a small playground and no playing field at all (the church has rented a playing field for them) and it's wonderful to have been given the funding for this new school. Whatever it looks like from the outside, I'm absolutely sure - knowing the staff, governors, and children - that Squiffany will have a fine education and be very happy there.

What Z wore today

What Belgian Waffle wants, Belgian Waffle should get. I hope she didn't mean I should upload it to Flickr



I've been in jeans most of the week, but today I wore a skirt. The teeshirt and pattern on my skirt are black not grey but I couldn't find a black felt-tip pen and it's too blunt to show the pattern, and the brown is too dark, so here's a picture of it. I absent-mindedly coloured in down to the wrist on my left but I deliberately didn't try to do my hands - I'd made enough hash of my shoulders. My sandals are brown, which I forgot to colour. I'm not sure what went wrong with my right lower arm.

There. Other than that, it's the image of me.

Z overeats - or, the proof of the pudding...

It's an interesting thing - Victoria sponges or Bakewell tarts (or puddings, if you're from Derbyshire) each taste different, but a cherry cake is a cherry cake and one tastes much like another. That was the hardest - the first two tasted almost exactly alike, the third tasted the same but was slightly drier. All - there were 7 or 8 entries - tasted similar but in all but 2, all the fruit had sunk to the bottom. One was beautifully distributed and one was reasonably so. Sadly, the best looking wasn't the best tasting. This was the hardest decision of all. Marie and I deliberated, and finally gave it to the perfect looking one - it was still a good cake to eat and was, visibly, by far the best.

Anne had rather wanted us to share the items between us - one to do baking and one to do preserves, but neither of us fancied that, and we promised to hurry up and be decisive. Even so, we were diligent and examined jellies (preserves, that is, not gelatine desserts) for clarity and cakes for density and lightness of crumb before our careful tasting. Usually, we were able to decide swiftly on the top three or four, although we usually had to taste again before deciding on the final order. Marie would have overlooked the less than ideal looking entries, but I insisted on tasting everything, and indeed the best looking often wasn't the best to eat. After it was over and, having tasted 10 or 12 pickles and chutneys, faintly churny of stomach, we had a final swig of water and went for lunch - I left the ham and cheese and ate home-made onion quiche and salad, including a particularly good, fleshy yellow tomato I'm not familiar with - I'll have to ask around and see if I can find out the variety.

When all the names had been put out, I looked to see who we'd given prizes to. I was interested to see that De had won first prize for her drink for the third year. She's helped me judge for the last two years and stepped back, leaving it to me, for the class she'd entered in. She gave me no hint and I had no idea, but she won. This year, there was an elderflower cordial, two elderflower and lemon and one lemon and raspberry. The lemon and raspberry was deliciously tart, an elderflower and lemon was slightly sparkling and delicious and we tasted them a couple of times, before deciding that the lemon overpowered the raspberry and it was slightly too sour with raw lemon juice. The other was marginally sweet, but otherwise perfect and we gave it to that. Having once gained 19/20 points for my lemonade in an Area WI class, I reckon I know my soft drinks - anyway, as I say, De's was the winner as it transpired.

Ro was out on my bike (he had asked) when I arrived home. He'd gone to visit various friends, one of whose mother has just died. Another friend, who gave him a lift home from Norwich on Friday, lost his father to cancer a year ago - tough on these young men. My father died suddenly when I was 16; I miss him still, and it will be 40 years in January - and the centenary of his birth next July.

Anyway, we had an early meal of bacon (local), eggs (home-laid) and tomatoes (home grown) and I took him back to Norwich. I brought back a boxful of shot lettuces from his landladies' garden, for the bantams.

Today, there was a car treasure hunt and tea at the Rectory. I thought it my absolute duty as a good guest to eat as much as possible, since Brenda and Gill had cooked so much delicious food. I ate sandwiches, scones with jam and cream, sponge cake and fruit cake. Back to a redoubled diet tomorrow. Size 10 (English, darling American friends) has been determinedly re-won and will not be lost again.

The village show

Today, I'm going to one of the next villages to judge the Domestic classes in their annual Gardening Club show. It's the third consecutive year - I have to say that I'm terribly flattered to have been asked again. I know what a dismal old woman this makes me but I don't care in the least. I also know why they asked me back - it's because I do the judging in the spirit of the show.

I'd done it before, some years ago, with a friend. Now she took it on with the air of a professional, which she was. She used to be a home economist, worked on various glossy magazines, with well-known food writers/cooks and has written a number of cookery books herself. So she took the schedule seriously, and if it said a 7" cake, she wouldn't even taste the 6" one, but wrote 'not as scheduled' and passed it by. Similarly, if she cut it open and it was a bit underdone in the middle, she wouldn't taste it. After a couple of years, they quietly didn't ask her. She moved away some time ago so there's no question of offending her by asking me without her.

I taste everything, even if it smells funny. Even if there are 20 chocolate cakes or 17 jars of pickle, I have a go at all of them, then go back to the best few to finalise my decision. I know nothing, but we all know good food when we taste it; enthusiastic amateur describes me as a judge just as well as it does the entrants.

This year, they've cut down the number of classes somewhat, which is just as well, though I see that they've removed many of the savoury classes and left the sweet ones and pickles. When I arrive, the first thing I do is check the schedule for tasting order - more or less, savoury, followed by sweet as you'd expect - but the savoury pickles tend to be left to the end in case they spoil my palate, hem hem. The gentlemen's class is usually keenly contested. Last year or the year before, it was lemon cake. I hardly knew how to choose between the final two absolutely delicious ones, they were gorgeous. Much as I'd already eaten, I had to taste each of them several times.

So think of me from noon onwards (not for the whole rest of the day, darlings, let your minds cast a glancing blow any time between 12 and 2 pm). I will be tasting, in approximately this order, cheese scones, cottage loaf, sweet biscuits, cherry cake, victoria sandwich cake with butter cream filling, Bakewell tart, jars of jelly, lemon curd, chutney and pickles, non-alcoholic summer drink and evaluating new-laid eggs.

Stuffed and slightly nauseated, I'll then be given a delicious lunch.

Family matters

Dilly and the children have gone away camping for a few days. It was blowing a gale yesterday, but they didn't leave until 4 o'clock, when Al shut the shop early and went to help them set up the tent. I had a text from Dilly later to say they were all tucked up warmly. Al will go and join them again on Saturday evening.

Ro is coming home this evening, just for a day. He's got various things to look out and take back, including his passport. He thought he knew where it was and asked me to look, but it wasn't in the drawer he keeps that sort of thing - he probably needed it for ID sometime and just put it somewhere afterwards - he'll find it easier than I would, I certainly don't want to start looking through all his stuff.

And Weeza and Phil have asked us round for dinner next week, for my birthday. Ro will join us, and we'll go early in time to play with Zerlina first. Weeza, who finds that routine suits her baby best, asked that we arrive before 6 or after 7, as if we arrive during the run-down to bed time, Zerlina won't want to go to bed when she usually does, and then she'll have a restless night. So we'll pick up Ro from work and go then.

Both Weeza and Dilly had the babycare thing sussed so much more effectively than I ever did. Mind you, I was only 20 when Weeza was born, and getting into a steady routine was certainly something I resisted. A bit more organised when Al came along a couple of years later for practical reasons, but I didn't want our life restricted by fixed times for a baby - you have to remember I was a 'child of the Sixties' and whilst I was by no means a hippy (too young, too sensible, and, though still so far in the closet that I didn't even know it myself yet, too control-freakish), I had something of the relaxed attitude to life and still do. It is restricting for Weeza and Phil, who will rarely stay out past Zerlina's getting-ready-for-bed time, but they are rewarded by a child who welcomes and enjoys going to sleep. When it's getting near nap time during the day, Weeza will get out Barry the Bear and little z reaches for him and gives him a cuddle. Then Weeza gets out the little pillow that someone just gave them from New Zealand, and z takes it and snuggles her face into it. Off they go upstairs to read a book, z goes into her cot and, though she may not go to sleep for a while, she rarely fusses but just lies there happily talking to herself before drifting off. It's remarkable. Well, it is to me. I love it that my daughter is a better mother than I was!

Once more, then I'll let it go

Just to wrap it up - Weeza did put the tooth in milk straight away, so if it could have been reinserted it would have been in a state to be. And now I've thought it through a bit, I suspect that the next tooth will edge over to try to fill some of the gap but if that proves a problem when her next front tooth comes through, the dentist can simply whip it out. And at least Zerlina is too little to know what's happened and not self-conscious, and Weeza says that she'll treat the whole thing as a badge of honour to show how tough she is when z is old enough to realise.

The Sage surprises Z

Weeza phoned a while ago. I had been going to ring her and offer to go over to see her and Zerlina, but she felt like being out of the house, so they're coming here. She said the ambulance men said that baby teeth can't be put back, and she afterwards looked on the internet and confirmed it - I'm not sure if it's theoretically possible, but it's not worth the difficulty of the operation and the risk of infection and it just isn't done. Little z was toddling across the room in her wobbly manner, lost balance as usual but toppled forwards instead of backwards. As to how the other teeth grow and the implications for second teeth positioning in a few years, we'll have to wait and see. And get to know a good orthodontist if necessary!

Anyway, I didn't sleep much last night. I went to sleep all right, resolutely thinking of something else, but woke up just after 1 o'clock and couldn't get off again. My mind wasn't dwelling on it too much, but only by thinking of other things which just made my brain over-stimulated. Eventually, I got up, read blogs (at last caught up on the backlog from while I was away with Wink) and had a conversation in comments and emails with Dandelion, who was awake too. Then I went and read, cuddling Tilly the while, and eventually slept on the sofa for a couple of hours, not waking until 8 o'clock.

And enough of that. We'll put it behind us and move on.

In yesterday's post, the Sage received a disc containing photos of china, so I put it on the computer and set up a slide show - "look, you just have to touch this arrow to move on or this one to move back". He's waiting for an email and kept asking me to check if it had arrived. "You wish you could use a computer, don't you?" I asked. "Maybe it's time to learn". "I'd have to have my own computer though," he agreed. Well my word. I never thought I'd hear those words from my beloved's lips. Isn't it great when someone can carry on surprising you? Anyway, it seems he rather hankers after a laptop and taking actual lessons in using it. I think he might as well get a pc, as that will simplify matters for finding someone to teach him, and also he'll be able to have things I don't - for example, Publisher, which Weeza uses for our catalogues.

When you think you're having a bad day...

Remember, it almost always could be worse.

Cheerfulness vanished

The Sage rang Weeza to go through corrections to the catalogue and she had bad news.

Zerlina has had a nasty accident. Standing, she wobbled as she usually does, but instead of sitting down, she fell forward onto her face and knocked one of her front teeth out. No, the ambulance men said it could not be reinserted. She wasn't much hurt otherwise, but we're all very upset.

Z is in a good frame of mind

I'm feeling quite gung-ho and positive today. In part, this is because I've been doing more looking-into hip resurfacing and have found a brilliant website run by people who've had it done, which includes articles written by surgeons who - oh joy - don't talk down to *ordinary people* and who evaluate their part in an operation not doing so well as it should have. I wish clever people would appreciate that we know well that saying what they could have done better (and have learned from that, so now do) increases confidence in them. It's made me appreciate that I've got a lot of responsibility in choosing who should do the operation (if it's suitable for me) to increase my chance of having a superb and long-lasting result.

My instincts go that way, in fact. I'm more interested in failures than successes - that is, you'll be told about the successes but you have to ask about the failures - and I want to know why they happen, if they're bad luck, surgeon error or patient misfortune or irresponsibility. To me, no surgeon who can't admit he ('he' includes she in my book, as in I'm part of mankind) got it wrong isn't going to be frank with me or learn. Not that I'd want a long list of failure... oh goodness, you know exactly what I mean and I'm not labouring the point any more.

It reinforces my wish to have it done privately and not push for the NHS though (not criticising the NHS, it's bloody good on the whole, look at the care Honey is getting for a start). It's a complex and precise operation, more than a total hip replacement, and I want as much control as I can get. I'm happy to stick with my £1400 car and my old-fashioned house and second-hand everything. I haven't got insurance - in view of my startlingly splendid health, that would have been a bit of a waste of money over the years - but we've always put money aside. In fact, unless I was literally on the breadline I would always live on less money than I had.

Ro is notably frugal in this way. He mentioned a few weeks ago that he's quite surprised, really, how little he spends on food. Since he's virtually vegetarian (he does eat meat, but not supermarket meat and butchers are rarely open outside office hours) and his landladies grow loads of vegetables which he's welcome to help himself to (he helps with watering, weeding and picking in return), it's not that remarkable.

Other reasons for feeling cheerful include having been approached with a view to someone putting a reasonable-sized collection of china in our sales next year. The Sage had decided to go with the usual two auctions rather than the three he had this year, but this could well tip the balance in favour of a third. And someone has made an enquiry about a couple of pieces she's got - we've asked for a photo - if it's what we think it might be, it's good news indeed. Well, if she wants to sell them, that is!

Other reasons? Oh, just general well-being, you know how it is. I'll come down to earth next week, when I'll be really busy again.

Z can't get at her emails

Is gmail generally down or is it just mine? Fortunately, when the email I'd spent some time writing didn't go on first sending, I copied it, as now I can't get the page up at all.

I bit the bullet and resigned from the committee (well, gave notice that I will stand down at the next AGM in a few months) and this has been accepted by the chairman - all I have to do now is tell people, which I will do within the next week or two. No vast hurry.

Wink has left and is spending the night with Weeza and family. Tomorrow, she has a funeral to go to in Norwich, that of her sister-in-law. She's taken an extra day off work to stay for it, but will drive home tomorrow afternoon. She took Dilly and me to lunch in Yagnub for our birthdays, which was very enjoyable.

Hm. Not much else to report. I'm going to Portugal for a week in November with Wink and the Bod - we debated for some time which of two weeks we'd go, and then when we thought it was all decided, Bod suddenly switched to a third week that hadn't been discussed. I'm distinctly doubtful of the weather in late November but hey, at least it will get me out of two meetings. You see how I'm already learning to switch off - not so long ago, I'd have turned down a social event on behalf of a meeting I felt obliged to attend. Unfortunately, it does mean that I won't be able to use the opera ticket I've bought. I'll have to check the website to see if the performance is sold out and whether I'll be able to get a refund if it's resold or whether I've got to tell the Sage to go in my place.

I must take a picture of Al's shop - it's all repaired and repainted now and looks very smart. Not that most of you will know what it did look like, but Badgerdaddy will.

Oh, Al and Dilly have got the eBay bug. It started when I was away and the Sage wanted to check on something he'd left a bid on, and Al came and helped him. Now they're happily buying and selling and it seems to take most of their spare time.

Right. That's about it. Goodnight.

Bringing on the wall, Day 26 - Wink Joins In

Dave was late!!(!)* This is pretty well unheard of, but I supposed that perhaps he had spent some extra minutes preparing his mother's breakfast and that he'd been running around like a busy person to catch up ever since. When he arrived, only ten minutes later than usual, it transpired that there was another explanation, but you must go to him to find it.

I made tea (two Earl Greys without milk, one Earl Grey with milk, one Indian tea with milk) and we got started. The first bucketful of mortar was a bit wet, so I ladled it on to a run of bricks so that they would absorb some moisture by the time I wanted to lay the next course of bricks. This proved to be splendidly quick and effective and I got on well. Dave concentrated on the corner, which is a bit complicated to do. Wink had not, after all, brought bricklaying trousers, so I lent her a spare pair of mine (generously, the summer-weight ones, while I wore the thick jeans with the knee out), but she decided to do some shopping first, so disappeared for a while.

All went swimmingly, and later she returned and laid several bricks herself. This is today's effort

And the corner from the other side.

Also, with Dave's permission, here are the wide-lens photos he took last week. Still couldn't get quite all of it in because of a tree in the way
If you compare my first photo with his second one from the session before, you can see how much we added today. These pictures, taken from his blog, don't enlarge and they do look good embiggened (as Pat puts it) so here's a link to the original where they do.

Later, we ate bacon sandwiches on the lawn, which have been requested by Dave for some time (he also asks for cake during afternoon sessions, but he hasn't been lucky yet). The Sage was accompanied on one side by Tilly and on the other by his favourite bantam. He fed them both bits of toast. Then I fed them bits of toast. Dave left to go and tell his mother something she wouldn't want to hear. We sat in the sun on the lawn and drank another glass or two of wine. Later, Wink had a little nap (she's on holiday) and I went and filled the car against the fuel increase tonight and then came home and prepared dinner. We'd invited Al and family round for a barbecue.

While the food was cooking we ate smoked salmon pâté on oat cakes, artichoke hearts in olive oil, black olives and breadsticks. Squiffany hadn't eaten artichoke hearts before and gave it a try "I don't like it - wait - I do like it!" She accepted another, bigger piece. The meal went very well, everyone enjoyed all the food and it was a jolly, convivial evening in the last of the sunshine. We were joined by chickens again and gave them pieces of oatcake. Only one will take food from your hand, and she lets the Sage pick her up too. He gave her to me to cuddle and she let me, though she was being polite rather than enthusiastic so I didn't test her patience for too long.

Then several of us went to Fairyland by train, and then the rest of us went to London - Squiffany being the train driver in each case. Eventually, as it was becoming dark, they went home to bed (well, the children went to bed, I daresay Dilly and Al didn't) and we came in for coffee.


*If anyone wonders why the brackets, it's because the divinely splendid JonnyB claims full rights to three unadorned exclamation marks and I am a respectful blogger.

Z is amused

So, it's a sunny Bank Holiday and you've spent several hours frolicking in the sea or relaxing in the garden or steaming in a queue of cars or stomping round the shops. You want a spot of light relaxation, right?

Look no further. Z spends hours in relaxation, every single day. And this is the sort of thing I do when I'm not reading your blog. Each of your blogs, that is.

I like this photo. Interesting.

Thanks to Non-working Monkey for this one

Only one of many awkward family photos

An old one, but if you haven't come across it before, one can while away a good many horrified, yet entertained, minutes Weeza put me on to this website years ago, long before I was a blogger.

Today's real post to follow. I've got to start preparing dinner.

Oh Dave, would it be all right for me to publish your wide-lens photos of the wall please? Acknowledged, of course.

Z huffs and puffs

I'd been disinclined to go to church. There wouldn't be a service at our church, only one at a village nearly 4 miles away - but they usually have a very small congregation, sometimes not even a single handful of people, and yet it's a lovely place and I have friends there - so I decided I would. I'd drive though, it's uphill and I'm nervous of one bend (on a hill with a nasty camber so that lorries tend to take up the whole road, invisibly until the last moment) even in a car, so cycling was out of the question.

Unfortunately, I have a strong feeling of obligation. I asked the Sage what he thought. "The wind has dropped" he replied unhelpfully. "I don't mean the weather, I mean the road. It's not a nice road and I don't do hills" I said. "Oh" he said, "I don't know how to advise you". I knew what he meant. I sighed, went and ate a piece of toast and got the bike out.

No, I didn't enjoy it at all. And what I didn't realise, even on the way, was that quite a lot of it was very slightly downhill, so that on the way home I didn't have the easy run I expected. However, there was a very good turn-out, with over 70 adults and a dozen or so children. I didn't agree with what the Rector said in her sermon and drifted off for a while, thinking how I'd put it instead. Not that I'd want to. I never want to deliver another sermon, once was fine but I've done it - it was never an ambition, but at the time it was appropriate - but it won't be again. Likewise for cycling that road. I hate hills and so does my bike.

I met Wink and the Sage at the pub, had a quick drink and came home and cooked omelettes. We had chicken for dinner, which was quite neat.

Weeza sent through the first draft of the catalogue. All is going well there.

Z is still scoffing fruit and cobnuts

Yes, I did go to the doctor and he immediately agreed to refer me to a consultant - he said a couple of years ago that he would, as soon as I asked, so it's the result I expected, but only the first step. If I haven't heard from the hospital in two weeks, I'm to contact him again, but I daresay I will have.

Bit of a change in the weather - a sudden downpour yesterday afternoon, the first rain here for at least a couple of weeks, and it's markedly colder. Not cold - I'm still wearing a teeshirt - but when I go out tonight I'll take some warm clothes for later.

This evening, Wink is due to arrive - I was quite gratified this morning when I went into the spare bedroom to find that I had remade the bed after the last guest left. Yes, I washed the sheets first. I always used to do that - when someone had been to stay, launder the bedlinen and remake the bed by close of play next day at the latest, but of late I have slipped somewhat, so I must have done it on autopilot.

Then we're going out to the annual Cyder fest at the next village. The Sage is a member of the Cyder Club and they have a splendid hog roast each year. Great fun, but I've always prudently limited myself to a single glass of the home-made cider, as I think overindulgence would be a bad, bad mistake. Indeed, I've been known to add a dash of lemonade to help it down, and I'm not a shandy lover. The company and food are superb, however.

I went into town and stocked up on the sort of food one eats on a relaxed weekend - delicious nibbles from the deli and wholefood shops. Simon in the wholefood shop had a horrible journey back from Scotland yesterday. I knew the M5 had been closed for hours while the police tried to talk a man out of jumping from a bridge - unsuccessfully, ultimately - but apparently the M6 and a lot of other roads had a whole lot of delays because of accidents. Probably caused, some of them, by the bad driving of people who had been stuck in traffic for hours on the M5. I do, honestly and genuinely, have great sympathy for a man who was so unhappy he was driven to suicide, but surely there's an etiquette here? If you have had police officers trying desperately to comfort you, to talk through your problems, begging you to accept help, for hours on end, you really should not jump after all at the end of it.

I grew up in a holiday resort, so it's always been natural to me to batten down the hatches and just stay home on a Bank Holiday. Being a sulky and unfriendly sort of person, it seems more of a treat not to have to go anywhere.

Lunch today has been delicious bread from Simon's shop, although I accidentally picked up a multi-grain loaf with sunflower seeds when I'd rather meant to get walnut bread; still, I'd have ate the whole loaf in one go if I had, so no matter. Since, I've been eating more Victoria plums and greengages (both locally grown) and nuts from Kent. Al said that sprouts and sprouting broccoli are on the wholesaler's list. Hmmmm. Much as I like both vegetables, not in August. Wisely, Al is still sticking to real seasonal vegetables in the shop.

Z plans her day

The Sage will be out all afternoon. First he had to go to a funeral (having been asked to speak at it, an obligation was involved) and then, with Weeza and z, he will go this afternoon to visit his sister, whose birthday it is. I cycled into town, and very windy it is. On the way home, with the west wind in my face, I pedalled hard to little effect - at one point I was going at 5.5 mph. If I could run, I could run faster.

So now, the most pressing question is what to have for lunch. I've started with two figs - we've had a few from our own tree, but Al had some lovely local ones at the shop - someone with a large tree sells them to him every year. I forgot to have breakfast so I'm really quite hungry. Al had lots of lovely fruit - Worcester Pearmains (those are apples), Victoria plums, greengages, Kent cobnuts, as well as the figs, and I'm quite drawn to gorging on those, but on the other hand I could cook something with lots of garlic and chilli, more than the Sage quite enjoys. Or I could remove a bantam from a nest and take a couple of new-laid eggs (the Sage shut up the early layer last night so I wasn't woken at 6 o'clock. Or there's always risotto, which comforts and cheers even when I wasn't in need of consolation to begin with. I will stand in the kitchen and see where I'm drawn.

After that, I'll do the labelling of photos for the catalogue; or rather for the website catalogue. I'll double check everything against the description; it'll take a couple of hours I suppose. Then, having been to the library this morning, I might just settle down with a book and a dog and read and cuddle for the rest of the afternoon.