Twelve years ago today, just four weeks after I retired, I arranged to go with a fellow baldy to Brighton for a head shave. He and I had been chatting on the internet about where to get a decent professional head shave, and he'd heard of a Brighton barber who was good. Within a couple of weeks we found that we were in love, and have stayed that way. (Meanwhile, the barber seems to be on the run from the bailiffs.) On another trip to Brighton a little later, we exchanged rings - sitting in the good old Peugeot in the station car park - and when the law allowed it, we became civil partners in a low-key ceremony, witnessed by our closest, and performed by a registrar who is now a fellow magistrate and friend.
What a lot has happened in those twelve years! Martyn has taken an excellent degree, and enriched the lives of hundreds of school and college students, joining me in retirement just less than two years ago. I've joined the local bench, and gradually taken on more and more responsibility, though I fear I can't claim to have enriched the lives of many of my customers. We've chosen a house that is ours rather than his or mine, and are gradually getting it the way we want it. It's a shame that our parents aren't around to see us in our happy state and agreable surroundings, but at least Edna got to see both.
Turning to said surroundings, we have spent some time in the open air today. We've weeded various bits of the garden, and it was at last just dry enough to give the back grass its first cut. I've pricked out 96 rudbeckia seedlings, taken another dozen fuchsia cuttings, and planted out a hypericum cutting and a bit of box to fill a gap in the hedge.
On sad note, one of Edna's fellow residents, Elizabeth Butler, died on Thursday, aged 82. She had been at the care home for some time before Edna went there in 2006, together with her long-term companion Margaret, who died last year. They served in the army together for many years, and later shared a home in the town until they could no longer live independently: Margaret because of failing eyesight and Elizabeth because of diabetes. Elizabeth was a tough one. She had lost both feet because of diabetes-related circulatory trouble, but was soon walking again with the help of a walking frame. She shrugged off cancer surgery a couple of years ago in short order. Fortunately, her eyesight remained good, and she was an avid reader. It was also not unknown for her to read magazines containing advertisements for mail-order chocolates, however, which meant that the care home nurses had to keep her blood sugar under surveillance all the more assiduously. It's a tribute to Corina and her team that she lived so long: one of the GPs said recently that, when Elizabeth came to the home probably around ten years ago, he hadn't expected her to last six months.
Sunday, 28 April 2013
Saturday, 27 April 2013
In search of wasted time
It's not unusual, in one's hobby, to find oneself scheduled for a two-day event that collapses on the morning of day one. Knowing this happens so often, the administration normally has a reserve event lined up, so that we aren't left idle. But when that too drops out, leaving us with nothing to do from 10:45 to 14:00, and the weather is fine, what better than a bit of National Trust visiting? So a colleague and I went up to Knole, and had a pleasant walk round the perimeter - the house itself didn't open until noon. There is a huge amount of work going on at the moment: what isn't crumbling is either rotting or being nibbled away. So sections of the house are inside a huge plastic tent, and I notice that the house was closed to visitors yesterday while a vast steel beam was slotted into place over some of the rooms open to the public.
Well, our walk took us to just after11:30, and the Knole tea room is not one of my favourite places, so we took a ride up to Emmetts, a rather fine garden at Ide Hill, from which there are fine views over the Weald to the south. We arrived just as the head gardener was about to take a guided tour (all two of us) round the garden. Since spring is so late this year, there was rather less to see than one might have hoped, but the tour was very informative. There were lots of pulsatillas, primroses and species tulips in flower, and the magnolias were resplendent. (Why is ours the last magnolia in the county to come into flower?) I do question the decision to plant the whole of the rose garden with pink-flowering varieties, but we were told that it has some measure of historical authenticity. I'll have to go back in the summer to appreciate the full awfulness of it. Another recent history-based decision was to plant an area of meadow with tulips and cherry trees, to re-create a planting scheme that appears in a photograph taken there about 110 years ago. Looking through my own photograph files, I find one that I took 11 years ago today. When we were there on Thursday, there wasn't a solitary bluebell in flower, and the trees were nearly all bare. Both Knole and Emmetts still show signs of the devastation by the 1987 hurricane, though it's less apparent once they are in leaf.
Back in a more mundane garden elsewhere in the county, the white spiraeas are coming into flower, as, finally, are the primulas and pansies I bought last back end supposedly for winter colour. We have a couple of trays of annuals growing on vigorously in the conservatory, and I need to get busy pricking out the rudbeckias etc. The fine, warm weather earlier in the week has really got things moving in the garden and the conservatory, but it has now given way to cooler, more changeable days, with some heavy showers. Unfortunately, the grass is growing no less vigorously, but I think the rain of the past 24 hours will probably have ruled out cutting it for a while yet. The front is slightly drier, so I coaxed the mower into life one day in the week and gave it a first cut. It's a bit of a mess, I have to admit: there was a large bald patch where we have had a conifer cut down, and my seed sowing last autumn was patchy, so I've had to have another go at it.
So much for the flora. As to the fauna, we have magpies nesting in the neighbour's conifers, so perhaps that's why the smaller birds are a bit shy. I've seen a few blue tits around, but no signs of traffic to either of the nest boxes. Blackbirds are - or were - nesting in the side hedge, and we have regular visits from our local pair of dunnocks. Our infuriating chaffinch is back, and we are occasionally serenaded by a wren. If I were so minded and less squeamish, I could set up a market stall stocked with wood pigeons. As for the ducks, Arthur visits daily, but we haven't seen Doris for a while. I hope she is incubating eggs rather than nourishing a fox.
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| Emmetts Garden, April 2002 |
Well, our walk took us to just after11:30, and the Knole tea room is not one of my favourite places, so we took a ride up to Emmetts, a rather fine garden at Ide Hill, from which there are fine views over the Weald to the south. We arrived just as the head gardener was about to take a guided tour (all two of us) round the garden. Since spring is so late this year, there was rather less to see than one might have hoped, but the tour was very informative. There were lots of pulsatillas, primroses and species tulips in flower, and the magnolias were resplendent. (Why is ours the last magnolia in the county to come into flower?) I do question the decision to plant the whole of the rose garden with pink-flowering varieties, but we were told that it has some measure of historical authenticity. I'll have to go back in the summer to appreciate the full awfulness of it. Another recent history-based decision was to plant an area of meadow with tulips and cherry trees, to re-create a planting scheme that appears in a photograph taken there about 110 years ago. Looking through my own photograph files, I find one that I took 11 years ago today. When we were there on Thursday, there wasn't a solitary bluebell in flower, and the trees were nearly all bare. Both Knole and Emmetts still show signs of the devastation by the 1987 hurricane, though it's less apparent once they are in leaf.
Back in a more mundane garden elsewhere in the county, the white spiraeas are coming into flower, as, finally, are the primulas and pansies I bought last back end supposedly for winter colour. We have a couple of trays of annuals growing on vigorously in the conservatory, and I need to get busy pricking out the rudbeckias etc. The fine, warm weather earlier in the week has really got things moving in the garden and the conservatory, but it has now given way to cooler, more changeable days, with some heavy showers. Unfortunately, the grass is growing no less vigorously, but I think the rain of the past 24 hours will probably have ruled out cutting it for a while yet. The front is slightly drier, so I coaxed the mower into life one day in the week and gave it a first cut. It's a bit of a mess, I have to admit: there was a large bald patch where we have had a conifer cut down, and my seed sowing last autumn was patchy, so I've had to have another go at it.
So much for the flora. As to the fauna, we have magpies nesting in the neighbour's conifers, so perhaps that's why the smaller birds are a bit shy. I've seen a few blue tits around, but no signs of traffic to either of the nest boxes. Blackbirds are - or were - nesting in the side hedge, and we have regular visits from our local pair of dunnocks. Our infuriating chaffinch is back, and we are occasionally serenaded by a wren. If I were so minded and less squeamish, I could set up a market stall stocked with wood pigeons. As for the ducks, Arthur visits daily, but we haven't seen Doris for a while. I hope she is incubating eggs rather than nourishing a fox.
Monday, 22 April 2013
Spending others' inheritance ctd...
We ventured out yesterday to our friendly local garden shop in search of some big pots in which to grow the spuds, plus some grass seed, since the latest patching exercise has almost cleaned us out thereof. Got all of those, but while walking the pots to the cash desk, spotted an octagonal hardwood table and folding chairs, reduced in price by a third, with another 10% off for the slightly sparrow-bombed showroom set. Well, we'd been looking for something like it for a while, and it seemed to fit the bill, so said we'd like it. The young woman at the desk said 'Ah, I'll just get one out of the store room'. 'Ah', sez I: 'We were tempted by the 10% off the showroom set, actually!'. With a lightning calculation of the effort required to dismantle the showroom table, she decided to give us the 10% off a boxed set anyway! It's remarkable how often there's scope for a bit of polite haggling these days. Off to Fortnum's with a slightly fuller than expected car. It was fuller still when we left there, because they were selling cushions that looked as though they'd fit the chairs.
Assembling the table didn't take too long, given that I could practically add Experienced Assembler of IKEA Flat Packs to my cv. So, lunch on terrace at new table. It's all pretty lightweight stuff, of course, but the benefit of that is that it can come in at night and park comfortably in the bay of the sitootery. The cushions come nowhere close to matching the covers on the sofas, but we shall not get too precious about that, since they do the job and are comfortable. I may in due course detail a resident sewing machine owner to make up some more suitable covers.
While we're on spending, Aunty Jessie's old clock has returned from the fettlers and kept good time for two or three days. It stopped last night just after midnight, so, given the eye-watering bill for the overhaul, I am not very pleased. It started again after a little bit of manhandling - I was in the process of taking the pendulum out, ready to march it back to the jeweller, when it started chiming twelve. I shall be passing his door later in the week, possibly with the clock, if it misbehaves again.
When the temperature rises a bit, as it is expected to do later today, I'll set to and prick out dimorphotheca and cosmos seedlings, which now have their first true leaves. I think I'll leave the spuds a little longer: we've had some very sharp frosts overnight, and although the garden is definitely waking up, there's no need to rush things. We bought some Charlotte seed potatoes again this year, since they were so delicious last time we grew them. The other job in the culinary department is to clear out the sinks in which we grow our herbs. I have half a dozen plants on order, and there are two rosemary plants in the cold frame, ready to plant out. We're also going to treat the mint to its own container: it currently shares a sink with a rosemary (which it has smothered) and some chives. Martyn spotted a different variety of mint in Fortnum's yesterday, so that will join the black mint from the sink. The sage and thyme are looking a bit tired, but we'll trim them back and see whether some new compost will bring them back on song.
And the real news is that cousin Ceri had her baby yesterday. No idea of specifications, other than that she seems to be hale and hearty. Francesca, to be known after her great-grandmother's wartime nickname that stuck, as Frankie. And great-great niece to Frank, of course. So, named after my favourite aunt and the uncle I never knew.
While we're on spending, Aunty Jessie's old clock has returned from the fettlers and kept good time for two or three days. It stopped last night just after midnight, so, given the eye-watering bill for the overhaul, I am not very pleased. It started again after a little bit of manhandling - I was in the process of taking the pendulum out, ready to march it back to the jeweller, when it started chiming twelve. I shall be passing his door later in the week, possibly with the clock, if it misbehaves again.
And the real news is that cousin Ceri had her baby yesterday. No idea of specifications, other than that she seems to be hale and hearty. Francesca, to be known after her great-grandmother's wartime nickname that stuck, as Frankie. And great-great niece to Frank, of course. So, named after my favourite aunt and the uncle I never knew.
Friday, 12 April 2013
Carpe diem
Recent intimations of mortality prompt us to spend a bit of money on our own comfort. Unless we mortgage the house, the estate should still be reasonably healthy - though, come to think of it, care costs could deplete it pretty fast these days. Anyway, off the depressing topic and on to the plans.
One is more the remedying of a minor niggle. Readers might recall a rather spectacular gas leak a couple of years ago. Part of the reason could be that the meter box, which is made of now-brittle GRP, was already damaged when we moved in, and is no longer weatherproof: the hinge housings on the door and the cabinet have crumbled over time, so we've had to wedge the door closed with dismantled clothes pegs and the like, and it falls off every time the wind blows. The problem is that the cabinet is recessed into the wall, and can't be replaced without building work that would require disconnecting and removing the meter for the duration. I've toyed with fitting hinges at the top and a magnetic catch at the bottom, and a number of other DIY solutions, such as building a case to fit over it in softwood. If in doubt, google. A search turned up a company in Belfast that would replace the cabinet for an eye-watering fee. The search also showed that our problem is far from unusual. Thank you, British Gas, for yet another overpriced and unserviceable offering. Another company will provide, for a shade over £120, an aluminium box that will enclose the lot, and an email received just now says it will be delivered today between 12:21 and 13:21. No kidding. We'll wait for a decent day before we fit it, however: it will need a dozen or so screws into the brickwork, and no doubt a line of mastic round it, so we'll wait for a dry day. Meanwhile, the gas meter is not working at all (the gas is coming through, but there's no read-out on the meter), even though the meter man said he'd report it last time. Hope that means that they'll charge us nothing, but I suspect we may have some wrangling ahead of us.
The other meter is not without its challenges either. Having nipped my fingers with the pliers once or twice too often while trying to get into the electricity meter cabinet to take a reading, I googled 'meter box key'. This search turned up a helpful person in Brum who has sold me a meter box key for the princely sum of £1.79, incl P&P. Next, on calling Eon to provide one reading and to explain why I couldn't supply the other, I had muzak on hold for 15 minutes before they disconnected the call. I'll wait for estimated bill: we might even have a full complement of working and properly housed meters by then. Why, when moving, would you take the meter cabinet key with you? Of course, the previous owner of the French house took the sink plug, but that's another story. [Later: the new meter box will need a dollop cut out of it before we can fit it, and it came supplied with - wouldn't you just know it? - a meter box key.]
The next calamity is a month's pension's worth. The doors between the dining room and the conservatory, sourced from a well-known big suburban shed with more than usually oleaginous advertising slogans, have never been really satisfactory. Indeed, one of them had split and and had to be cobbled together again even before the builders had left the site. 'It's got our name on it. Shite'. Another of them has now broken at the bottom pivot, and would need greater skills than ours to cobble it together again. The doors were in any case non-compliant with building regulations, which require external grade doors into a conservatory, which otherwise becomes an extension, which would fail the regulations because of the glazed roof. Paciência, as I find myself saying more and more often these days. We've had a couple of local firms in to estimate, and gone for the one whose estimate was not obviously 'avin' a larf, so hope to have decent doors in place in about a month's time.
Just in time for us to have another go at heading off to France. We've booked a later departure this time, so plan to do it in two moderate days' driving rather than one long and one short. And so what if we spend another night on the way? It won't break the bank.
It's good to have some colour in the garden again. Polyanthus and their primrose cousins are doing well. Fuchsia cuttings are cut and seed are sown: cosmos and dimorphotheca have germinated. I think the latter prefer to be sown sur place and thinned, but we'll have a try at pricking out, potting on and planting out. It's only a packet of seed, after all.
One is more the remedying of a minor niggle. Readers might recall a rather spectacular gas leak a couple of years ago. Part of the reason could be that the meter box, which is made of now-brittle GRP, was already damaged when we moved in, and is no longer weatherproof: the hinge housings on the door and the cabinet have crumbled over time, so we've had to wedge the door closed with dismantled clothes pegs and the like, and it falls off every time the wind blows. The problem is that the cabinet is recessed into the wall, and can't be replaced without building work that would require disconnecting and removing the meter for the duration. I've toyed with fitting hinges at the top and a magnetic catch at the bottom, and a number of other DIY solutions, such as building a case to fit over it in softwood. If in doubt, google. A search turned up a company in Belfast that would replace the cabinet for an eye-watering fee. The search also showed that our problem is far from unusual. Thank you, British Gas, for yet another overpriced and unserviceable offering. Another company will provide, for a shade over £120, an aluminium box that will enclose the lot, and an email received just now says it will be delivered today between 12:21 and 13:21. No kidding. We'll wait for a decent day before we fit it, however: it will need a dozen or so screws into the brickwork, and no doubt a line of mastic round it, so we'll wait for a dry day. Meanwhile, the gas meter is not working at all (the gas is coming through, but there's no read-out on the meter), even though the meter man said he'd report it last time. Hope that means that they'll charge us nothing, but I suspect we may have some wrangling ahead of us.
The other meter is not without its challenges either. Having nipped my fingers with the pliers once or twice too often while trying to get into the electricity meter cabinet to take a reading, I googled 'meter box key'. This search turned up a helpful person in Brum who has sold me a meter box key for the princely sum of £1.79, incl P&P. Next, on calling Eon to provide one reading and to explain why I couldn't supply the other, I had muzak on hold for 15 minutes before they disconnected the call. I'll wait for estimated bill: we might even have a full complement of working and properly housed meters by then. Why, when moving, would you take the meter cabinet key with you? Of course, the previous owner of the French house took the sink plug, but that's another story. [Later: the new meter box will need a dollop cut out of it before we can fit it, and it came supplied with - wouldn't you just know it? - a meter box key.]
The next calamity is a month's pension's worth. The doors between the dining room and the conservatory, sourced from a well-known big suburban shed with more than usually oleaginous advertising slogans, have never been really satisfactory. Indeed, one of them had split and and had to be cobbled together again even before the builders had left the site. 'It's got our name on it. Shite'. Another of them has now broken at the bottom pivot, and would need greater skills than ours to cobble it together again. The doors were in any case non-compliant with building regulations, which require external grade doors into a conservatory, which otherwise becomes an extension, which would fail the regulations because of the glazed roof. Paciência, as I find myself saying more and more often these days. We've had a couple of local firms in to estimate, and gone for the one whose estimate was not obviously 'avin' a larf, so hope to have decent doors in place in about a month's time.
Just in time for us to have another go at heading off to France. We've booked a later departure this time, so plan to do it in two moderate days' driving rather than one long and one short. And so what if we spend another night on the way? It won't break the bank.
Wednesday, 3 April 2013
Change of plan
We should have been settled in at the house in France at this point, but we had a late change of plan. Martyn has not been feeling great for some time now, and since he seemed rather worse once we were on French soil, I reassessed the situation, filled up with diesel (and a couple of half-cases of wine) and turned back. We were on French soil for all of an hour, and were back home by lunch time appreciating the snow, hail and sleet from the warm side of double glazing. He has seen the doctor, and we'll think again about travelling once a new prescription has had time to work. Meanwhile, the ducks appear pleased that their servants are still serving meals at appropriate times.
We had been looking forward to some double-figure temperatures, but gather that the weather in the Languedoc has not been terrific. Indeed, the Orbieu was on yellow alert again the other day. So perhaps we're better off staying at home and indoors. We had a glorious day here yesterday, so I did a bit of indoor and outdoor gardening, filling pots and trays with compost and warming it up in the sitootery for a couple of hours. I've sowed some seed, both commercial and saved, and taken cuttings from some of last year's fuchsias - they were very keen to come out of dormancy under glass, and the shoots were just the right length for cutting. Two weeks later might have been a bit too late, so it's an ill wind indeed. With the sun on the glass, the sitootery came up to a thoroughly decent 23° yesterday. Today, alas, we're back to arctic temperatures, thick cloud and snow flurries, so I'm not hurrying to plant out the potatoes, the shoots on which are in any case not quite developed enough. So what else in the garden? Primroses are starting to flower, including some that I transplanted last year. Our daffodils are flowering, but as last year, a lot have come up blind. I suppose a spot of feeding wouldn't hurt... Of the primroses bought last back end as pluglets that could be in flower by Christmas, nothing but foliage. Snarl.
Our current art class project is 'On the Rocks', so my crippled imagination wasn't too taxed this time. I've been slapping the paints around a bit again, predictably inspired by the Cathar castles of the Aude, this time working from a detail of a photo of Peyrepertuse that I took some years ago. Since I have a couple of unexpected extra art classes this month, I may have another go or two at the theme.
We had been looking forward to some double-figure temperatures, but gather that the weather in the Languedoc has not been terrific. Indeed, the Orbieu was on yellow alert again the other day. So perhaps we're better off staying at home and indoors. We had a glorious day here yesterday, so I did a bit of indoor and outdoor gardening, filling pots and trays with compost and warming it up in the sitootery for a couple of hours. I've sowed some seed, both commercial and saved, and taken cuttings from some of last year's fuchsias - they were very keen to come out of dormancy under glass, and the shoots were just the right length for cutting. Two weeks later might have been a bit too late, so it's an ill wind indeed. With the sun on the glass, the sitootery came up to a thoroughly decent 23° yesterday. Today, alas, we're back to arctic temperatures, thick cloud and snow flurries, so I'm not hurrying to plant out the potatoes, the shoots on which are in any case not quite developed enough. So what else in the garden? Primroses are starting to flower, including some that I transplanted last year. Our daffodils are flowering, but as last year, a lot have come up blind. I suppose a spot of feeding wouldn't hurt... Of the primroses bought last back end as pluglets that could be in flower by Christmas, nothing but foliage. Snarl.
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