Lazy Sunday

Oh, I am not a friend to myself. If I were, I'd have done a bit of work today. As it is, I took the day off and therefore will have to do whole lots tomorrow evening when I'm tired. Stoopid, terribly terribly stoopid, but on the other hand I've taken a day off, so will say 'yay!' and, well, maybe I'll do a bit tonight. I have, at least, printed out the address labels from the mailing list and phoned in the orders for tomorrow's deliveries.

I was in bed before 10 o'clock last night and went straight to sleep. I was awake again at 3.30. I mused, in the next wakeful hour or so, that the old saying goes that an hour's sleep before midnight is worth two after. The saying doesn't say that it replaces that two hours. I was just too damn tired to get up though, and finally slept, if fitfully, until 8; and then had to belt about like nobody's business. Still, I took the papers out onto the lawn and slept this afternoon, which was rather enjoyable. It was very warm but the sun was mostly hidden behind hazy clouds so I don't seem to have been sunburnt...

Nor have I watered the greenhouses. I seem to be just opting out, and have done for a few weeks. No explanation, no excuse, just don't seem to care that much. There is a splendid crop of blackberries growing on the brambles at the end of the drive, which is quite enough reason not to cut them back for another few weeks. And to think that only a year ago I was working so hard with my pruning saw. Maybe not an exact year, really, we're not checking back are we? that's the trouble with a blog, we can check these things and it doesn't give me scope for broad and sweeping statements that may be not quite accurate.

Roast chicken for dinner tonight. And afterwards I had a chat with my girlie. The baby is fine and slept from 1 am until 5.30 and then again until a reasonable time and has been feeding well all day, so they feel they don't have to set an alarm to get up and wake her at night, which will make life easier. They're very lucky, I never had a baby sleep more than a couple of hours at a time, day or night, for the first several weeks.

Z mustn't sit down for long or she will fall asleep

I would like to put my feet up and have a little sleep. I didn't, much, last night for some reason - probably because I knew I was getting up early. I went up to wake the Sage just before 7 o'clock, but he didn't feel like rounding up a cattle at that time, so I went and read yesterday's paper for a while before going to the shop at 8.

Alice did well in her GCSEs, with A*s, As and Bs. So did her twin sister. I asked about the other twins, she said she knew one was pleased but hadn't seen the other (honestly, people can be a bit funny, if it were me I'd tell a friend how my sister had done - she must take after her father).

The day went fine, not wildly busy but we got a lot sold and I was glad, at 4 o'clock, to start to pack up after 8 hours on my feet - no coffee or lunch breaks, I eat and drink in between customers. Then, of course, a steady stream of people came in over the next 20 minutes, their requirements ranging from 1 banana to nearly £10-worth of fruit and veg. The Sage kindly came in to help me put away the shelving and after he'd gone I cashed up the takings. Usually we're open from 8.30 to 5.30 (though I get in early as I'm slower than Al at setting up) but we stay open until 7 of Fridays, closing early on Saturday to compensate.

My calves are tingling with achiness. I cycled home very slowly and plodded hobblingly into the house and drank a pint of water. I added ice cubes. I am a girl who knows how to have a good time. There had been a stall under the Buttercross (an ancient market place, it still has a market on Thursdays but the dome of the Buttercross itself houses a charity stall on Saturdays). I bought 4 children' books (the number refers to the volumes not the young people), two jigsaws and a fruit cake, for £4.90 and told them to keep the change. The lady's pleasure was way out of proportion to my gesture.

There were 3 punnets of raspberries left at the end of the day, so I have brought them home. Probably, we'll eat one today, one tomorrow and freeze one. I shall give some to the Sage with a piece of cake. He will be happy. He likes cake. I might eat some too. Or not. I'll have raspberries.

I will fall asleep if i sit here. I think I shall go and very slowly start to prepare dinner. Maybe a nice cup of tea while I'm doing so. After all, it's too early for wine.

10 again

Are comments appearing in tiny print for everyone else, or is it just me? Not just on this blog, others too.

We're thinking that we'll bring Pinkie part of the way on the footpath. I said we had better go out at 6 or 6.30 - oh all right, but no later than 7 o'clock. The Sage still looked a bit glum. "I want to be in the shop working by 8" I explained. He suggested we could do it on Sunday, or another day. "It still has to be that early though, before people are driving past." Anyway, I'm setting the alarm for 6.

Tonight marked Progress in Z's diet, which has been ongoing for nearly 10 months now. I shall go back a bit and explain the whole thing.

Some 8 or 10 years before she died, when we were both staying with my sister for a week, we all went shopping and my mother bought a skirt. I liked it very much, but she saw it first and I encouraged her to buy it - but she never once wore it. I don't know why not; it was evidently one of those things one buys because it' s a bargain but turns out to be a false one. In those days, I could easily have fitted into it.

After she died, my sister and I sorted out her clothes and gave most of them to the charity shop, though we kept a few coats which had hardly been worn and other things - we were always cheerfully swapping clothes, so it didn't feel weird. Anyway, I kept this skirt, even though I couldn't wear it. I thought that one day I might slim down enough - pathetic, isn't it? That was more than 5 years ago.

So, a few weeks ago I tried it on and I could not only do the zip up but fasten the waistband too. And tonight I wore it. I'm vastly pleased, to wear a size 10 (that's a 6 to you Transatlanticians) again.

I went to my last concert of the summer at Snape tonight and I met 5 friends, unexpectedly. That is, a couple and another couple with her brother. Very nice.

I've come home, drunk a cup of tea and a glass of whisky (no wine tonight, but can't let the blood override the alcohol in the veins, isn't healthy) and now I'm off to bed. Goodnight, darlings.

Hell Bent for Leather

Move 'em on, head 'em up,
Head 'em up, move 'em out,
Move 'em on, head 'em out Rawhide!

Big Pinkie has gone visiting. She has called on some friends in a field half a mile away. She crossed fields, footpaths and the river, but the Sage and I are going to bring her back by road.

This will be interesting. Quite fun, I hope, as long as she doesn't mind cars. If she does, we'll just have to see what happens.

Update - not at this time of day, too much traffic. It'll have to be done at larkfart in the morning instead. Hm. A pleasant stroll before I set off for a long day's work in the shop. We'd planned to put a rope round her neck but she didn't care for it, so it would have to be done simply by calling her - she follows nicely.

Z dithers

A friend has just come online. I emailed him last week to ask how his twin 16-year-old daughters did in their GCSEs. He hasn't replied. Now, he isn't big on emailing. On the other hand, he's online and he can see I'm online (and this has happened 3 times this week). Doesn't look as if they did as well as hoped.

So, is it tactful or uncaring of me not to say 'hello'? I'm still going with tactful; hell, I emailed and it's sort of up to him. But blokes are a bit retarded that way (not you of course, dear heart, I'm talking about other men) and he might be waiting for me to say something.

Sheesh. I'll see the kids sooner or later and ask them.

Shellfish as ever

Oh, I forget what I was going to say. Hang on, I'll go and make some coffee, that might remind me.

Nope, it's gone. Gosh, I wish I had some sweets. There's chocolate, but Reformed Characters such as what I am don't eat chocolate without better reason than simply wanting it. Black coffee isn't quite cutting the mustard. Never mind. Dinner was nice though.

Did you know that kippers cost more than scallops nowadays? I asked Matt (I'm quite sure his name is not Gary, Badgerdaddy, he has it painted on his van - Matt, that is) for three kippers, and mused that in my young day one would have eaten a pair of kippers. I wouldn't, as I was a child, but my parents would, sometimes for breakfast. Kippers were not a dinnertime (that is, evening dinner) meal. One might eat kippers for tea if one ate tea, but we just drank tea. I'm quite glad that we now eat our evening meal at any time, call it whatever we fancy and eat what we like.

Anyhoo, he weighed the kippers and apologised that they cost 9 quid. He suggested that the kippers of my youth were local kippers for local people, whereas these were smoked from Norwegian herrings. I asked for a dozen scallops. They cost £8 (and formed the main interest of dinner. Or should I say supper? Tea, if you prefer). He rounded the bill down to £15 as he is nice that way.

I left the fish in Al's shop fridge and headed on over to Weeza's place. I took her some cherries, greengages, Victoria plums, peaches, raspberries, cucumber, bread (which was coated with toasted sunflower seeds), ham, salt beef and chocolate. The chocolate was Fairtrade milk chocolate and orange, Green and Black's butterscotch and chocolate and Fairtrade praline chocolate. The last was 100g bar and she is allowed to share it with Phil at the weekend. The rest was littler bars for her to eat all by herself.

It reminded me of my father, when I was little. They were friends with an entertaining but eccentric couple who lived in a house done up with castellations and turrets - the previous generation who built it were a bit unusual too. The wife, Dorothy, developed cancer.. The husband was very interested in numbers and their meaning and believed you could use formulae to predict the course of the future. He would come round, in a state of despair.

"My darling Dorrie will die on the 27th September!" he declared unhappily. He accepted a couple of glasses of sherry and some nice cheesy biscuits and went home again. "No she bloody well won't" declared my father, with equal certainty, and got on the phone to the wine merchant. The next day, he'd go round to the Towers with a crate of quarter-bottles of champagne. He put them in the fridge and instructed Dorothy to have one of them every day at 11 am.

She went on for longer than expected. It was all down to the champagne and the love - of my parents and her husband and family.

For now, I have delighted you long enough. And I haven't even mentioned the baby. She deserves posts to herself, you see.

Z sees her time Slipping Away

Oh crumbs. And to think that only yesterday I said to Dave that I was a bit busy, so not building the wall next month would suit me rather well. This morning, just when we were very occupied examining china for the condition report, the phone rang. The Person at the other end was asking if the Sage could do a valuation of a very large and rather splendid collection of china (which we had been reminding the People Concerned needed doing for about three years). It needs to be done urgently and at as low a cost as possible. They aren't sure if there is still the inventory that we did nearly nine years ago.

Next week is out of the question, the Sage mentioned, but we could make a start the week after. He'd have to check a few things first though, and he'd phone back within half an hour. He rang M. M reckoned he had a copy of the inventory, if not the previous valuation, but he pointed out that the collection is open to the public every afternoon, including Sundays, for the next two months.

Nevertheless, the Sage rang back offering a very low fee and to do the job asap - but he wants a firm commitment that he will be paid (I'll not explain this, it's not a matter of lack of honour but lack of cash, and People Concerned are trying to sort things out) and it transpires that the chap holding the purse strings is on holiday until next week anyway.

They want photographs too *of course* which is fine, as we'd have to open the cabinets anyway; you don't value things without handling them as they tell you about themselves when you hold them. Sorry, I'm not being fanciful, truly. You might know what I mean and if not, er, stroke something you care about and see if that extra sense adds to the way you respond to it. It works on any level...Oh look, come back, I didn't mean it that way. Unless that's what works for you. Whatever, You see my point, which is an elevated and academic one with a sensuous (not a sensual) element.*

Anyway, when I said 'make as start' the week after next, I didn't mean my time is free. I don't have more than two free days any week, and that's without having made arrangements at the high school for music, but taking in the dumping of non-essential commitments. It has to be in daylight because of the photos. And there's always the matter of the members of the public potentially milling around. Screens?

I may not have mentioned that I'm taking over the shop next week as Al and co are on holiday. After that, I'm looking after the children a couple of days a week while Dilly is working,. Dilly wondered if they are asking too much, in view of this latest thing. I said that family things come first. And it'll be fine. As it will. I just won't be doing any housework from now on. That's fine, a month's dust takes no more time to remove than a week's.

I suppose that they may declare the Sage's ludicrously low fee is too high, but no one else will do it for that money because we care. No, really, we do.

I'm going to stop now, before I weep into my - oh gosh, it's empty, how did that happen? - wine glass.

Oh, I nearly forgot - by the time we had had two more phone calls and two visitors - one expected and more than welcome and one a delivery of flowers to the wrong address - boo - we put them right, - boo - we didn't complete the condition report either. The weekend is the deadline. That's okay.

*sorry, I'm drowning my anxieties

Z and the Bearded Gentlemen

I was surprised. I had expected a certain chaos, but was ushered into a pristine and elegant room. There were, indeed, piles of cardboard boxes in the rooms off, but they were neatly and purposefully stacked. It recalled to my mind our move to this house. I stayed in L'toft to supervise operations back there and then followed on. I found a virtually empty house. The Sage had had everything stacked in the garages so that he couldn't possibly have put anything in the wrong room. I did mention that some things, like saucepans and clothes - and, indeed wardrobes - are a bit obvious, but it was too late by then. Some things are still out there, 22 years later. Yes, I do miss them. No, I can't fetch them. There's stuff stacked in front of the doors.

Dave showed us round his house, which is remarkably well bathroomed and beautifully painted. The garden is splendid - well, it isn't, it is rather bare with a thoroughly plantained lawn, but it has potential to be lovely, with the advantage of little that *must* be kept, so Dave will be able to use his talents for garden design.

Drew was already there when I arrived, but Murph wasn't able to come, being in need of a rest after the excitement of travelling the M62. I used to travel along it too, when Ro was at university. It was usually foggy on the eastern side. Well, I suppose it's the east, it's the side on my right on my way north. I did, however, see the towel-lined plastic box in which Lily travels, sitting on Drew's knees.

After our tour of the house, and having inspected all those bathrooms, Dave's bedroom (also fully furnished and tidy) and the cupboard under the stairs (amazingly roomy), we sat down and took tea. It turns out that Drew, too, is interested in wall-building. I think it should be a bloggers' wall and everyone who has a part in its building can sign their name. However, both Dave and I agree that we're rather pushed for time this autumn. May is a good month for building a wall, don't you think?

Big Pinkie's progress

I'm a bit busy today but I thought you might like to know how Big Pinkie is getting on. She's been alone in the field for the last few days, to see how she copes with it, and it seems to be going all right. Cows are herd animals of course and she has lived her whole life with other cows. The farmer never leaves just one, in case she gets lonely and breaks out of the field in search of company. However, the field is left ungrazed during the winter, from November to the beginning of April and, since our donkey died some years ago, she will have to learn to live alone.

She comes to the gate regularly in the hope of a cuddle and some food; we save wilted carrots and cabbages and old apples and that sort of thing for her. She's quite calm and doesn't seem to miss the other girls, who have gone back to the farm to get ready for calving. We'll have to think about shelter for her for the winter - the donkey's stable is still there but it's hardly big enough for her. When I was a child, we made a small dutch barn for our pony (I didn't ride her, she was an elderly pet with a weak heart, given a home to save her from being put down) and lined it with a double thickness of straw bales all around the walls - this was a shelter for her for the winter days and the summer nights and the straw was gradually used up in her stable. Something like this might be a possibility. The Sage and I have talked about it, but we'll need to speak to Johnny and his dad too as they may have a better idea.

The other news of the day is that a blogmeet has been arranged - I'm calling on Dave in his new home this afternoon and Drew, who is owned by Murph, will be there too. Won't we have fun?

Going for rather more than a song

The catalogue for our next sale is up here. Some rare items, several of which the Sage had previously sold to the late owner. If you happen to be a member of the Ant1ques C0llect0rs Club, there is a half-page advertisement near the back of the September edition of the magazine and we'll have ads in the Ant1ques Trade Gazette and the EDP and EADT due course (if you are East Angularians you'll know what papers they are and if you're not you won't see them anyway). We don't usually advertise that much, as it's more effective to have a large mailing list and send out catalogues, but this is an exceptional sale.

Oh, and the other news is that it's Al and Dilly's fourth wedding anniversary today.

Happy day, darlings!

Z Pigs Out

I could give you a rant but I've decided against it; at least for tonight. Because I is cheery again and not in that sort of mood.

Tonight's party (I'll soon have to stop saying I don't have a social life at this rate) was the annual Cider Club doo. Most jolly as always and a good meeting-place for friends I used to see regularly, in the days when we really did get out more. There is lots of cider, much of it slightly dodgy and I confess I quietly added a little lemonade to take away the acidity, in the hope of not having a sore head in the morning. A whole pig is roasted, which takes all day, loads of salads and a vegetable and rice concoction is cooked in a massive pan over an open fire. Dilly wants a pan just like it. I don't know why, but nevertheless I think it's a splendid idea. Enough rice was cooked in it for at least 150 people. Adèle says that you can buy them pretty cheaply in hardware shops in France.

We all went and the children lasted, sleepily by the end, until 10 o'clock when their parents took them home. I saw Ro deep in conversation with a bloke and later asked him about his friend - turned out he works for a large Norwich company and they might be able to direct some work in the direction of Ro's firm. Useful, if not strictly social...

Alice had cycled up from Peckham for the weekend. Lovely girl, but evidently barking. Mind you, her brother is the chap who does triathlons (can't remember if I wrote about that here or in the Other Place) and has ambitions to work up to an Ironman. Apparently, that involves a 2.4 mile swim, a 112 mile bike ride and a marathon run. Alice's mother asked if I enjoy my cycling. I said truthfully that I don't. It's a way of getting about and it's good for me, what's to like? It's not that I hate it, or not very often, but it's not exactly tennis or something amusing like that, is it? Indeed, I added, if I really want to have a good time outdoors I'll put my feet up in a sun lounger and read. She was quite shocked, for she loves things energetic, and suggested that there was surely something energetic I actually enjoyed. I agreed. There is. I'm sure you can guess what it is. But at my advanced age, it normally happens indoors and certainly between two consenting adults.

Arthropod, Bottom, Cheeks (for instance)

I was pondering, this evening. What made me ponder was the phonetic alphabet thingy, you know, Foxtrot Romeo Zulu and all that malarkey. And the reason that made me ponder was hearing a woman say that their seats were in row N and the chap with her said "N? N for Naughty?" Which reminded me that our postcode ends in F and whenever you give it over the phone the person at the other end says "F? F for Freddie?" Almost always. Rarely Foxtrot and never a third option.

And that made me think that one could have more memorable words. More interesting, maybe slightly startling. First, I thought of an alphabet of more-or-less rude words, but then I thought that this would be a bit dodgy to give over the phone, so maybe slightly odd would be better. So, if (living in Norfolk as I do) I started my postcode with Naughty Rascal, you wouldn't forget it, would you?

I didn't get all through the alphabet, well I did, but I've forgotten them now. I'd be charmed for some suggestions though. I know no one reads blogs at the weekend, least of all during a Bank Holiday weekend, but if you have a minute to spare to call in, would you like to come up with a couple of ideas? I'd be quite happy with, say, a noun and an adjective for each letter, so I don't care if everyone suggests words for the same few letters, I mean, do I look a woman who gives a tuppeny damn about Rules? I think that B should be Bottom though, don't you?

If you don't leave anything in the comments, I'll pretend you have all emailed me and make them up myself.

A - Arsey
B - Bottom
C - Czar
D - Djinn
E - Effing
F - Floccinaucinihilipilification
G - Gnome
H - Honour
I - Imbibe
J - Jerk
K - Kiss Knight
L - Lurch
M - Mnemonic (actually, that could be just too confusing)
N - Nuts
O - Organ
P - Pneumatic Pants
Q - Quiescent
R - Rumble
S - Snot
T - Tzatziki
U - Uppity
V - Verisimilitude
W - Wriggling
X - Xylem
Y - Ypres (pronounced correctly or as 'Wipers', each works)
Z - Bed

I give you carte blanche but reserve the right to refuse any suggestion that I deem just Too Rude.

Friends, family and neighbours

All very enjoyable. I woke up and decided not to get up, but to read yesterday's papers first. At half past eight, the Sage came upstairs, saw me reading, went down again and came up with today's papers as well to keep me going. I didn't get up until nine o'clock. Ho.

I spent the afternoon with El, Phil and Zerlina. I made them lunch and cuddled the baby so that Phil could eat. Then I ate mine. I am adept at eating with a baby in one arm. I've been doing it for over 34 years. She slept mostly, but she did wake before I left so I saw her eyes open for the first time.

Kavitha phoned to say she could come over and visit before leaving for Deepa's second wedding tomorrow. Weeza just rang to say that she had turned up with her husband and they could see there were other people in the car. It turned out that there were two carfuls of people on their way to Norwich, so they were all invited for an impromptu street party. It included family (from yesterday's wedding) from Chennai, Sydney and Washington (DC) so Weeza isn't likely to see them all together for some time, and there was a happy reunion. Then neighbours started to come out, including one who is expecting a baby herself in October and another who sent a card on the birth of Zerlina, so it was all very sociable and happy.

Tomorrow, the new family of three are coming over to visit as Squiffany and Pugsley haven't met their new cousin yet. I printed out a photo and took it through. Squiffany stroked it lovingly, said that they would be very careful and gentle with her and took the picture to put it on her bedroom mantlepiece. I will go into the shop so that Al can come and join in the family party - having cuddled my granddaughter for several hours today, a shorter time will suffice tomorrow.

Z lets her hair down

Today, I went to a wedding. I had a fabulous time. It was the sister of El's best friend, whose wedding we went to in Madras four and a half years ago. This time, it's in England at the home of their aunt in Lowestoft. D was marrying an English man and had the Hindu ceremony and reception today and will have a church wedding on Friday.

We were all invited, but Al and Ro were at work, so the Sage and Dilly and I all went to the ceremony this morning. I'll have a look tomorrow and see if there are any suitable pictures to put up. Tonight, just Dilly and I went to the party as everyone else ducked out on the pretext of not knowing anyone. I knew most of D and K's family, but no one else - actually, we'd known several people this morning, though having lived in Lowestoft for many years, this wasn't surprising.

I found that not many people knew me tonight. I'd cheerfully address them by name (this was quite a feat of memory, considering it was the foreign names of people I'd met for a week several years ago) and then have to reintroduce myself. Nirmala explained "I didn't recognise you because you look younger than you did when I saw you before, and haven't you lost weight?" I was completely mollified. I admitted that I had been very tired at that time.

Anyway, what with one thing and another, I was completely in the mood for a party. An Indian wedding is something else in any case, I adore the food and, though I had bought a dress for the morning, I was rather sorry that I hadn't put on a sari, so I hauled a rather lovely royal blue and gold one in georgette silk out of the drawer and set about putting it on for last night. I hadn't practised that for a few years either. I know the technique and it only took two goes...

As I say, completely in the mood and I felt the usual polite behaviour for which I am almost totally unknown drain away. I danced, darlings, like a meerkat*. For more than two hours, I danced my shoes off. Literally, as my feet were threatening to give out after a while, so I carried on barefoot.

I also ate my dinner properly, with my right hand. Indian food tastes best eaten with the fingers.

*With appreciative acknowledgement to Mike (Troubled Diva). I should add that I am not using his phrase in its correct sense - that is, dancing in a manner that brought meerkats to mind, but an extended meaning of dancing in an uninhibited fashion, regardless of what anyone might think. In short, it's too good an expression not to use. Indeed, he has been known to verb 'meerkat' itself and that works too.

A slight degree of over explanation here?

Once, twice, three times a Granny

and how I love them all.

Her name is Zerlina, for she is a small version of her mother - Weezalina, she should be called but she will not be wee for very long so it has been neatened.

And here she is.

I took her from her mother and found it hard to put her down again. I passed her to Dilly and she was cuddled by the rest of the family and then I took her back and held her while I ate my dinner. I haven't seen her eyes yet, she slept throughout. Her face screwed up a few times and she started to cry, but I have a soporific effect on many people and I was able to soothe her.

She has long fingers and hands. Her skin, soft last night, is now quite dry and wrinkled, but that won't last long. She is tiny, smaller than any of the other babies in the family were, but quite strong and healthy.

Oh, and one more thing...

HAPPY THIRD WEDDING ANNIVERSARY, WEEZA AND PHIL!!(!)




I made them a croquembouche as a wedding cake. It was the first time I had ever spun sugar. I meant to practise but hey - it's always all right on the night, isn't it?

BABY

Phil just rang. His and Weeza's baby girl was born earlier this evening - a couple of hours ago, he's a bit hazy as to the time. All's well, although it was a bit tricky as she was facing the wrong way and so in the end Weeza needed an epidural and a forceps delivery. She weighed 6 lbs 3 oz so it was just as well that she wasn't induced any earlier.

They expect to come home tomorrow.

Update Baby was born at 10 pm. So to phone not much more than an hour later is devotion to soninlawly duty indeed.

17, 18,, Granny in waiting

I can't settle to anything today. I don't want to use the phone in case we get a call and I can't focus on work. My cold is clearing up, but I have a hacking cough and not much breath, so I don't want to go out on my bike. Besides, I want to be here.

I had a text from Phil at 8.45 this morning which has left me hopeful of news today. I was waiting to pay the hairdresser at the time I read it -which was half an hour after it was sent, in fact. I hadn't heard the phone beep, it was probably when my hair was being washed. It's hard not to ring them, but of course that's not on. Indeed, odds are that the phone isn't either.

Another job was completed, in that our catalogue has gone off to the printers. It was a joint effort; I did the photos and the typing, Weeza did the layout, Ro then did the alterations and we all proofread and did final tweaks. I emailed it off as a PDF and had an acknowledgment that it was received. Our little business has never had a 40 page catalogue with most lots illustrated before, we usually run it all on a shoestring. I'll let you know when it's all up on the website. I haven't taken the photos yet of the first 15 lots, which aren't illustrated in the catalogue but will be online, but I've got all week for that.

I went to bed early last night as I really felt quite rough. If I mention that I didn't want to finish my wine but left half a glass, you will appreciate the jaggedness of Z. I kept waking all night, I don't think I ever slept longer for half an hour at a stretch and my mind was very full. And this was before Phil's text.

It rained

But El has still not had her baby. She has been to the hospital for a check-up and it got her quite gingered up. "I'll see if we'll let you go home" was said to her. No, you don't say that to a grown woman (who has done her research, knows her facts and in real life has a job with a high level of responsibility and who - shall we go there? Fuckit, why not? - is paid more, when working,* than the midwife who is trying to patronise her - who simply happens to be pregnant. With a commendable tolerance, she didn't rise, but did say that she would prefer not to have daily monitoring. She's having another check-up on Tuesday. I haven't spoken to her today, but we've exchanged emails and she has thanked me for not fussing over her.

I do this complicated rota, you know? Three months at a time. Columns for two readers, sidesman, musician and coffee-maker, and a further column for additional notes, such as the rare weekends when I'm away (so someone else needs to bring keys). Some people only come to one service a month, some to any but one (not necessarily the same one) and some not in the school holidays. I ask for notice of inconvenient Sundays, so that I don't make other people look for swaps, though people will always fill in. It's all very good-natured. But it's not effortless. So it was slightly disappointing when the second reader and the coffee maker forgot. The former didn't arrive, the latter didn't bring milk. There was an emergency packet of biscuits, I am not a careless sort of Z.

It was pouring with rain so, since I'd walked (cycling with an umbrella is a non-starter, really), someone gave me a lift home for the milk and the same kind someone read the lesson. It's mildly frustrating that the one who forgot to come is a helpful chap who always offers but often doesn't turn up. When I asked for extra sidesmen, my heart sank when he offered and, indeed, he doesn't arrive early, so all the work is already done, half of it by me, and chats cheerily after the service so doesn't help clear away. There are reasons why it's impossible to say anything, but he'll protest if I don't put him on the list. I have to put it together in the next few days. I sigh.

But first, I'll have dinner. It is entirely veggie. Blue Witch would approve.

*She was the highest earner in the family, before she went on maternity leave.

It hasn't rained yet.

Nor has the baby been born, but thank you for asking.

I am quite tired and I have a cold, and I have been working very hard all day. So please excuse me if I do not scintillate like a twinkly little star tonight. I will later of course, when flirting with my husband, because that gives meaning to my day.

I cycled in to town and down to the Co-op, where I haven't shopped for weeks and I had, as a result, run out of a lot of things. I shop most days, but once in a while it's necessary to stock up. Furthermore, we were out of beer. There is a limit to how much beer can be fitted into a pair of panniers. So I agreed with the Sage that, at a given time, he would meet me at the shop and load the car up with shopping. I'm sure this is not the point of cycling to the shops, but there we go. He had to go out anyway.

It had been a tiring day and I bought apple strudel. We don't usually have puddings and if we do, I make them. But tonight we had bought apple strudel. It was symbolic of a need, somehow, even if now my mouth has a coating of fat. It tasted good at the time. We also had fish. And baked potatoes and french beans.

I might write tomorrow, but if I don't it will be because the baby has not been born and I am losing interest in writing about anything else. Don't tell me you've noticed? I am completely distracted.

I'm going to read the papers. They will not cheer me, not one bit. I will probably spend some time staring at the crossword and filling in seven clues, then doing all the sudoku very quickly because it's not that interesting, then staring at the crossword again. Saturday nights, aren't they perfectly lovely?

I have the Sage. The answer is yes. Potentially.

Update --- the evening has improved. The Sage just found a nest of chicks, whose mother had naughtily laid away. I knelt on a bed of holly leaves and reached under a prickly horizontally-growing dwarf conifer and brought out ten blonde chicks and their complacent mummy. They are tucked away safely in a coop.