I’ve been ignoring the blog a bit lately: we were pretty busy in the run up to our summer migration.  Quite a lot to do in the garden, of course, and it goes without saying that the tomatoes were just starting to ripen as we left.  I found homes for the remaining nicotiana seedlings, but had to edge and weed the front rose bed before I could plant them out.  That process, plus hacking a box of compost out of the bin, was quite a tiring process, I found.  Cutting the grass was rather less so now that the mower is back and on good form! 

On Tuesday we were invited to a session at the Dover lifeboat station: every so often they have a day for people who say they intend to leave them a little something in their wills.  I went once before when Martyn was still working, and enjoyed it very much, so jumped at the chance when it arose again for us both.  This time the weather was fine, so most of the session was outside.  After the stock video, we went outside for a talk from the young man in charge of the Thanet lifeguards (a service that has been under the umbrella of the RNLI since 2001), then one from the Dover operations manager.  He tells a hair-raising story of his experience on the night of the 1987 hurricane, when he came pretty close to hanging up his oilskin for good.  The highlight, of course, was an initially gentle cruise round the harbour on board the lifeboat.  As I’d rather hoped, the coxswain couldn’t resist the temptation to show off the boat’s power and manoeuvrability, at one point swinging the wheel over and opening the throttles – impressive!  The vessel is due to go off for a refit, when the 25 year-old engines will be replaced with units with a bit more power reserve.  I shall have to go and check them out at some stage!

We had decided to leave for France straight after the visit, largely to save a few gallons of diesel.  I’d booked a hotel near Orléans for the night, and rang them from the car to tell them to expect us late – ie not to reallocate our room.  We got there as predicted around 10:00 pm after a pretty good journey.  The A15 into Paris was as busy as ever, but there were few of the motor scooter couriers that we normally encounter – utter madmen – but a fair compliment of aggressive drivers in marginally roadworthy old bangers.  I always take it pretty gently these days, sticking to speed limits, avoiding lane changes and leaving space between us and the car in front.  But as a colleague once said of driving in Paris, if you leave half a car’s length in front of you, the next time you look it’s got a Renault 5 in it.  I remember being surprised at how often people blew their horns at me in the UK when I had lived in Paris for a few years: I’d got used to the cut and thrust driving style that prevails there. 

The house is no worse than when we saw it at Easter.  While we’re here, I’ll aim to get another estimate or two for the work needed on the façades.  We’ve made a start on re-decorating the spare bedroom.  Our plan had been just to slap on a coat of paint, but on removing several generations of wallpaper, we find that the plaster is badly stained with tar where there had been a fireplace at one time.  I’m pretty sure that it would soon come through the paint, so we’ll have to use wallpaper, and hope that’ll do the trick.  Parking is more fun than ever: Didier has three cars parked in the street, and another neighbour’s car has died in front of the house.  I prefer to have our car where I can see it from the house, but that’s not always going to be possible until said neighbor gets his old car fixed or towed away.

Village sound effects are much the same – shrieking swifts and chattering house martins, the church clock with its cracked bell, Dutch tourists, clattery diesels and Didier’s ancient Citroën Dyane, which now sports a perspex roof, red wings and a stencilled Buddha on the bonnet.  Less usual was the gospel choir in the square yesterday afternoon and evening.  Of course, it’s not long before the annual rock festival in the square.  We won’t be hanging around for that, but heading instead for the train whistles and cowbells of the Grisons.

We’d both finished sleeping yesterday by 4:00 am: one of the problems of long days and thin curtains, I suppose.  We had guests coming for lunch, so we were well ahead of the game, with the vegetables prepared and a bit of tidying done in the garden by 8:00.

Meanwhile, as we were abandoning the idea of further sleep, over in Hampshire, my nephew Rick was probably just getting to sleep: his and Anna’s son Thomas James arrived yesterday – Fathers’ Day – at 02:00.  I had an ecstatic grandfather on the phone at around midday with the news: the parents had decided not to publish until they’d both had a rest.  All are well, we hear: we’ll hop over and see them at the weekend.

The guests arrived a little early: I was just getting into a clean shirt when I heard car doors closing outside.  Dorothy, aged a few days short of 90, was present and correct only 5 days after 3 hours of surgery to clear a blocked carotid artery.  She still had a big dressing on her neck, and some pretty impressive bruises.  Marion and John (Dorothy's daughter and son-in-law) and their friend Derry made up the six round the table.  We had a lovely afternoon together, and had the dining room and conservatory doors open for much of the time.  We’d got a leg of lamb from the local butcher, and as usual were not disappointed.  Martyn had made one of his celebrated puddings – a strawberry flan – yum!  John is a goldsmith, so I’d asked him to bring his tools with him: I have been unable to wear rings for some time, knuckles having grown a bit in recent years.  So, I’m measured up and John has gone off with the rings and a bit of Brazilian gold that I was given in 1979.  All the chaps at the conference got little gold key chains as a gift from the host government: a generous but rather impractical gift - until now: the colour is similar to that of one of the rings, so it will come in handy at last. 

The behaviour of our ducks has changed: I’m not altogether sorry: when they were spending hours on end in the garden the place was starting to get rather messy.  They are both still dropping in for meals, but rarely together, and only for very brief visits (eats, shits and leaves).  Both have been here this morning, but separately and briefly.  We’re starting to see quite a few juvenile blue tits feeding themselves too – the chicks from the nesting box over the kitchen door seem to have fledged now.  Must remember to get it down in  the autumn and clean it properly.  We have a family of blackbirds nearby – the five or so chicks are starting to feed themselves, though they’re still content to be waited on by a rather exhausted looking father! 

Nicer business today: once the washing was out, we headed out with a couple of family heirlooms in the boot.  Bonham’s were doing a valuation day at a nearby National Trust property, so we thought we’d see if we could get a view.  With one piece we got the advice and valuation we were expecting, plus an opinion on likely origins and materials but with the other, the auctioneer took a picture to send off to an Edinburgh colleague who was likely to have seen more by the same artist.  So we wait.  No question of parting with the picture in question, but we ought to know if on some remote off-chance we ought to identify it to our insurers. 

Nice surprise: as we shuffled along the benches waiting our turn and enjoying the lovely sunshine, a colleague from the the hobby that dare not speak its name hove into view with his wife.  Turned out that they were waiting to be joined by another of our colleagues and her husband.  She's from the same litter as me, as it were, having started with me in 2004.  She’s also the chair of governors at the college where Martyn taught.  I’m more and more convinced that these coincidences multiply with the advancing years.  Oh, and Martyn had met the valuer before.

The rain has held off so far, which is a great relief after so many diluvian days.  The pond is still high, and the grass is back to its winter state (quagmire), only it's growing like it's summer.  The mower is in dock, so we're battling on with the old mains electric job.  Not a problem - we wouldn't be able to cut the grass for a week or so anyway: just hope we can get it hacked down before we head up to our summer pastures.

Another small triumph for Bodgitt & Scarper

We hate DIY.  But we still baulk at the idea of GSI (Getting Someone In) just to put up a new light fitting.  We fitted a circular fluorescent light in the kitchen soon after we moved here, replacing a rather fantouche swivelling multiple spotlight thing that used five 100-watt reflector bulbs - and burned them out at a mighty rate of knots.  They were uncomfortably hot as well when one's unencumbered scalp was anywhere near them.  When we replaced the halogen bulbs with fluorescent 'equivalents', we were virtually left groping in the dark round the kitchen, so feeble were they.  One of our regular freecycle takers took it off our hands.  Well, the circular fluorescent was scarcely better, so when the tube failed, we decided to bite the bullet and put in a good old-fashioned twin strip light.  Much cursing and aching arms later, it is not unadjacent to the ceiling, and by some miracle, it covers the old holes - just.  But the quality is rather depressing: the steel is so thin that any self-respecting baked bean would turn its nose up at it.  And the plastic diffuser cracks as soon as you look at it.  But it's up, and it works, and it will give as much light as the original fitting for a seventh of the power.

Dentist visit on Wednesday: no excitements, fortunately.  He reduced my net worth in some degree by shaving a bit off a gold crown that had developed an edge.

Lots of heavy rain this week, so the garden is looking healthy if a bit battered.  Roses are coming into bloom, as are the little helianthemums.  The oriental poppies have taken a battering from the rain, and quite a lot of iris sibirica spikes were blown down.  The ill wind made for some components of a little posy to take with us on Friday's dinner date, however: a very enjoyable evening with Sandra and Michael.  Today we've planted nicotiana and the few rudbeckia we've raised from seed, and hauled out a few miles of brambles.

As I type, I'm being harangued by a wren and a chiff-chaff.  We see the wren scurrying round the garden now and then, but I can never pinpoint the chiff-chaff while it's singing, other than by sound.  I occasionally see it flitting away to its next song post.  We're providing food for blackbird and blue tit chicks: we have one family of the latter in the nesting box over the kitchen door, and the parents are busy flitting back and forth to the feeders.  There's another family in the conifer at the front (guess we'd better put up another nest box when we finally get the tree cut down), and we think there's another lot in the hedge at the back.  Of the ducks, no sign today, but I dare say they'll show up when they're hungry.

Back to rain.  So the pond is looking fuller, and so would the big water butt if I'd remembered to close the tap after cleaning it out.  But while HM was getting thoroughly rained on on the Thames, we were in sunshine near Brighton.  Barbara treated us to a pub lunch - at the third attempt, choices 1 and 2 being full - and at all of them people were sitting outside swigging pints of beer.  (We sat inside and sipped Chilean merlot...)  We left home in drizzle/heavy showers, and drove back into dull, grey and damp, and it appears to have been raining all night.  Oh well, good enough - it's washing some of the duck shit off the terrace and the grass, and  gardening is off the agenda for a day or two.  So, some of the much delayed filing has finally been done, and I shall do some baking today to replenish freezer stocks.  But trust the kitchen ceiling light to pack up on a bank holiday weekend!  We have a sort of flying saucer contraption that looks quite smart, but is really not up to the job, so shall revert to an old-fashioned strip light.  When the electrical wholesalers re-open.  What do you bet this'll mean re-painting the ceiling?

The mallards are still spending long spells in the garden, so I guess she can't have started laying - this is pretty late.  The way she has been poking about under the bushes suggests that she still hasn't settled on a nest site.  I can't think that our garden is a lot of use: we have too many foxes, and I gather that grass snakes are partial to eggs.  Magpies are another threat.  But the same is true anywhere around here, I guess.

The longish drive to find a decent pub yesterday meant that the warning light came on during the drive home, and I had to fill the tank a day or two sooner than planned.  £82.10.  We are starting to save up errands so as to make multi-purpose journeys.  I always try to book dental appointments on days when I'm due in court, for example, since both are in the same town.  Similarly, bottles get taken for recycling when we have to go to the nearby bird seed and/or fish & chip shop - though arguably, the latter excursions could be done on foot!