The Sage is outbid

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

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

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

Goodnight.

The Sage is happy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Z enthuses

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Z and the Sage go to a Private View

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

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

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

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

Laters, darlings. Possibly.

Z notices the time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does Z feel lucky?

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

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

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

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

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

Wild Front Ear

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*at the point of use

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

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

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

Ignore the weeds, I do.

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

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

Life in the kitchen garden

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Longest day

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

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

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

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

A long day

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

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

I'm all right now, thank you, though

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

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

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

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

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

Z embraces the vuvuzela

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

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

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

Bringing on the wall, Day 39 - Pillar of Dave

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*As we say in Norfolk

Second Post

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Z is a bit frustrated

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

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

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

I suppose I should have started all this earlier.

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

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

Hawk from a Harnser

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

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

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

Roll your sleeves up and participate

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

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

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

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