Good old Fortnums

The hanging basket at the front and the planting box on the steps at the back have been looking a bit sad since the pansies stopped flowering.  Fortnums' to the rescue: I spotted yesterday that they were selling trays of primula acaulis (primroses, though in a variety of colours) at £5 for twenty plants.  Quite nice little plants at that, so I snapped up a batch.

Elsewhere in the garden, we now have some daffodils in flower, though the downpours of recent days have flattened a few of them.  The yellow crocuses are through, and the snowdrops are up, if not in flower.  Primroses have been flowering timidly since Christmas.  Someone at art class yesterday was mentioning hellebores, but I see no sign of them in our garden.  We tend not to do very well with them.

I don't think I can put off the marmalade making for much longer.  The oranges and lemons have been lying on the kitchen work surface for about a week now, and we're pretty busy from next week onwards.  I'll only do one batch this year, since we still have about half of last year's output in stock, and only recently finished the 2014 vintage.

My next culinary plan is another crack at pork rillettes, but this time I'll freeze small quantities!  They are so rich that small doses are ample, and I finished up throwing out half of the last lot rather than risk keeping it too long in the fridge.  Another project is to find a decent quantity of dried haricots.  Our juvenile tastes run to the occasional batch of beans on toast, but have matured enough to prefer much less sugar and salt than comes in the proprietary cans (though Fortnums' Campo Largo brand is probably the least worst in that respect).  While on sugar and salt content, it occurred to me the other day to check up on breakfast cereals.  Turns out that Fortnum's equivalent of Special K is much lower in both than Kellogg's.

Grey

The colour of January, for the most part, is rather dispiriting.  Still, en route for various nefarious pursuits, one sees quite a lot of daffodils in flower, and the mauve crocuses in the grassy patches between the footpath and the roadway round the corner have practically gone over.  A couple of our daffodils are showing colour - so I guess it won't be long before we're cursing the straggly foliage.  Our perennial pluglets are doing quite well in the sitooterie, joined now by the seed potatoes.  I had started the latter in the garage (probably a bit too early, I suppose), and had to move them in preparation for the works last Wednesday.

We now have a new kitchen door, and a new door and window to the garage.  The garage lot were hangovers from the original build in 1980, none too solid to start with, and becoming rather decrepit at 35 years.  (A bit like some of my customers at the hobby, come to think of it....)  The kitchen door was cheap and vulgar, and was becoming difficult to lock, so was also ripe for replacement.  The front door has yet to be done: we'd been hoping it could be done on on Friday.  (I certainly was, since I'd a day at the hobby, thus had hoped to leave Martyn to deal with the crashing, banging, percussion drilling and tea making.)  The quality seems OK if unmistakeably plasticky, and certainly a bit better than that of the original offerings from Jokers Я Us Home Improvements.  

I'm hoping our new suppliers had planned to replace a bit of broken beading on the inside of the garage door on their next visit.  They certainly are so planning now, Mr Hawkeye Bishop having spotted the broken bit as he returned home on Wednesday night.  We don't yet know when the new front door will go in, but when it does, we shall have a bit more light in  the hall.  We've opted not to have a letter flap in the door: the one we have at the moment clatters like mad when the wind is in the appropriate quarter.  I ordered up a 'large' wall-fitted box on line to hang on the wall next to the door, and when it arrived, it proved to be too small to accommodate an A4 envelope.  My dear friend Vic used to say 'measure twice, cut once'.  I didn't check the measurements at all, naïvely assuming that 'large' meant large.  Back it went, and I already have my refund.  Mr Efficient Bishop ordered another one that fits the bill and collected it yesterday, so it'll be ready to go up when the new door arrives.

Thursday was mildly stressful.  We'd to go to the thanksgiving service of the husband of a retired bench colleague at lunch time, and I was struggling with a guilty conscience for not having gone to see him in hospital, where he languished for some months after falling and breaking his neck in the garden.  The service was somewhat prolonged, and taken by a somewhat high-church family friend (tall collar, back to congregation, facing the altar at certain points), but at least the hymns were within our range this time!  The local vicar topped and tailed the service, but we got a sense that he was a shade miffed at not being asked to take the whole service!

Thence to Benenden hospital for my appointment with the sawbones.  The experience was not quite as I had expected, though the reception staff were somewhat more friendly and helpful than one comes to expect in certain NHS contexts, the canteen was clean and pleasant, and the free wifie worked well enough.  (Just as well since we were early and the consultant was running late.)  The waiting room, on the other hand, was crowded and cramped, which is rather what I'd hoped to avoid, having now been paying in to Benenden for 44 years!  Mr Consultant, when I finally got to see him, was thorough and encouraging.  I 'm to continue with the exercises prescribed by the NHS physio (they seem to be helping a little), and not expect results overnight.  He didn't want to intervene at this stage, and although there is arthritic damage to the joint, he reckoned I'm some way off needing a new knee, so I'm off his list.  No further bulletins will be issued meanwhile.  Unless I feel like having a good moan at some point.

Depressingly familiar day at the hobby yesterday.  It started well when I got stuck behind a slurry tanker for some miles, and maintaining a respectful distance paid off once ar twice when dollops dropped off.  At least when I got to where we dish out the shit, someone else took charge (though all three of us were qualified to do so, as has been the pattern quite a lot recently).  I got to drive at least part of the way home in daylight.  

So far, a nice lazy Saturday so far.  A couple of loaves are in the oven, and I've done a modest amount of housework and DIY.  The latter involves attempting to glue together a chopping board that had once again shed a segment.  Goodness knows: we could afford a new one, but auld Scots habits die hard.

You'll wonder where the yellow went...

Who can complete the 1950s advertising couplet?

Well, the yellow is on its way out hereabouts. The sitooterie will shortly follow into a similar blue shade, though the terra cotta coloured flooring won't change.  So far, Martyn's treatment of the gap between the French windows and the floor seems to be keeping the slugs at bay.  The carpet is a little less mottled than we thought when we chose it, so will probably be no less susceptible to marks than its green predecessor.  Oh well, it's bought and paid for now, so we'll just need to get used to it.  Letting down and ironing the curtains made for a pretty substantial project, involving a dozen or so square metres of ironing, and about six metres of hemming the heavy canvas.  I think said fabric must have been designed to withstand thermonuclear attack, so do not expect to see fine sewing: I did at least manage to keep the curtains free of blood...  Still, they hang well, and go nicely with the blue walls. 

As I was working my laborious way along them, a memory came back to me.  At primary school, the girls' sowing and knitting was inspected every so often by a ghastly old witch called Miss Geddes, who was sent on the rounds of the schools by the education committee.  She had a vicious tongue, and would often unravel several rows of knitting in front of the whole class if it did not conform to her standards.  My sowing efforts of  the last couple of days would probably have earned me a thrashing.  The boys were spared the ordeal, however, being also spared sowing and - largely - knitting (can't remember what we did while the girls were knitting and sowing: surreptitiously playing pontoon or reading the Beano, I suspect...). 

Returning to an improved normal

The dining room is redecorated, re-carpeted and re-furnished, so the front room and conservatory are back to their only moderately cluttered state.  Martyn has sealed up the gap between the floor and the french widow (excuse the Hoffnungism), and we hope no longer to come down each morning to find slug trails on the carpet.  The blue-grey walls and warm grey carpet look fine.  Just a pity the curtains have shrunk (is the simple past 'shrank'?) in the wash.  Still, they are of remarkably good quality, and owe me nothing apart from some water, detergent and electricity - oh, and elbow grease: they're a bugger to iron.  They started life in a former employer's long-since quit offices in the 8th arondissement, and languished in a cellar in the Val d'Oise for a few years before being passed on to an expat who'd otherwise have had to buy from Gifi or some other down-market big shed.  They have since clad our windows in Paris, Brussels, Zürich, Lagrasse and, of course Leafy Langton.  So it shouldn't be too much of a struggle to drop the hems an inch or so.  And a visit with the steam iron wouldn't hurt either.  Oioioi.

Back to class today.  Current project is 'A Fine Old Thing'.  Ever ready to argue my way out of a corner, I'll put in a sketch of a mature pine tree set against sunrise colours on the Etang de Thau, looking towards Sète.  (Photograph by Mr Engineer Cooper, who may remember the said curtains: v. supra.)  I might work this up into a bigger canvas, having done the sketch on a piece of water colour paper 24x16cm.  [I'd taped up the paper before I realised I hadn't brought my water colours.]  And I might not, since it's rarely that quick impromptu sketches work up satisfactorily.  I tend to find that a piece has to be just about right within 45 minutes if it is to have a future.

Looks like we're in for some proper winter weather.  Ironic, then, that the Charlotte seed potatoes arrived today.  The garage ought to remain frost free, so I'll allow myself to liberate a 30-cell egg box from the farm and set them to chitting.  We had very good results last year from Charlottes grown in bags, so shall double the number this year.  And I'm determined not to repeat the utter failure of last year's leeks, nor the mitigated success of  the onions.  Our Jonathan, enrepreneur extraordinary and capable decorator, has promised us a trailer of horse, so we hope for good things from the garden this year.

Winter

With the wind swinging round to the north-west, and a few hail stones and claps of thunder over the past couple of days, it looks as if we might be in for some proper winter weather.  Doubtless just in time to frost the many buds on the roses.  Meanwhile, it has been WET.  I took the main roads to the hobby yesterday, and an unedifying experience it was.  Kamikazes hurtling through the rain and spray with no or insufficient lighting and scant regard for speed limits.  I decided to try my normal route home, but was thwarted by a road closure on the stretch that floods.  The consequent detour was slow and trying.  Driving narrow lanes after dark with oncoming headlights reflecting off the wet surface is a bit of a strain after a long day's unpaid work for the benefit of the community.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Jonathan is pressing on with redecorating the dining room, and we haven't heard so far that the new carpet we've ordered has been discontinued.  The rest of the house has to accommodate the fallout meanwhile, but does not present too many trip hazards.  I'm glad we've adopted a GSI policy for decorating.  The kitchen, our last essay in DIY decorating, came just as my old frame was starting to play up, so hopping on and off step ladders was not fun.  We found, when we lifted the old carpet, that the edge under the french window was sodden.  Turns out there is a significant gap between the window frame and the floor, which no doubt accounts for the slug trails on the carpet some mornings.  The work of our old friends Jokers Я Us Home Improvements, of course.  Their work on the front and back doors is similarly failing to stand the test of time, and they are up for replacement shortly.  We'll be out busking on the Pantiles ere long.


As for said old frame, the new exercises are making little or no difference, and I have an appointment with an orthopod later in the month.  Among other intimations of mortality, that appointment falls on the day we attend the thanksgiving service for a bench colleague's husband.  He fell and broke his neck some months ago in the garden to which he had devoted so much work over the decades, and which had also raised a fair bit for charity under the National Gardens Scheme.  Look it up: Little Gables.  Sad news too yesterday of another  respected bench colleague who has succumbed to breast cancer.  Two months older than me.  Hmmm. 

I have meanwhile had my new specs slackened off a bit: they were cutting tramlines in my temples.  One of the problems of having a big head (one way and another).  I'm going to have to get separate pairs for reading and computer work.  The varifocals are a good compromise, but not a panacea.  Question: should I put it off until after my eye clinic visit three weeks hence?  Roll on longer days and an improved Weltanschauung.

Here comes another one

As has become our custom, we saw the New Year in with kind, hospitable friends in Gillingham, returning home by 01:30 on reasonably quiet, dry roads.  Annie returned from a short trip to Venice on Saturday, full of good stories and photographs.  We met friends from Faversham at the half-way point (West Malling) for Sunday lunch in great company.  (Memo to self: if the special is chicken curry, forget it.  Leftover cooked chicken in a sauce is NOT chicken curry, chaps.  Tuition available on appropriate terms.  Oh, and parboiled rice is not a suitable basis for respectable catering.  The wine was OK....)
Annie spent a couple of nights with us before heading back North.  The M25 experience (she flew in to Heathrow...) in steady rain and stop-start traffic was somewhat unlovely.  Hull Trains were playing up, and it looked at one point as if she'd have to go to Sheffield and change, but they eventually produced a through train after much conflicting information on the web site.  (Must Try Harder.) 

Our new tumble dryer arrived yesterday at a marginally decent hour (about 08:15), and it works.  The old one worked too, but it's on the way to  the scrap yard because of a design fault that poses a fire risk.  Interesting chat with the people who delivered it: evidently the innards of one of the machines they collected was largely melted: the owner had never cleaned the filter!  At the moment, their depot is filling about five skips with duff dryers every day, and they expect to be busy delivering replacement machines until July!  If you have shares in the manufacturer (details on request), you might care to review the situation!  The approach to the laundry end of the garage will improve in due course: the softwood and ply door and window are now pretty shabby, so boring plastic replacements are on order.  While we're at it, we're having new front and back doors that will let in a bit more light.  We're dispensing with a letter box, since the one we have bangs when the north wind blows. 

Today's post brought sad news: the husband of a former bench colleague has died after several months in hospital: he fell and broke his neck last year in the superb garden he had created.  Their garden opened each summer for a couple of days under the National Gardens Scheme, and ours sports a few splittings from it.  I remember so well his going to the shed to fetch a spade to split a hosta for us: the spade was that of a keen gardener: spotlessly clean and shiny.

Well, the Christmas cards and decorations are down.  The tree is still in the sitooterie, and might move outside until it becomes unsightly.  A friend remarks that the way to fill the bling gap left when the decorations come down is with spring flowers.  Ever susceptible to good ideas, I picked up a couple of bunches of tulips yesterday at Fortnums, and they are opening up nicely in a vase in the bay window.  Kind lunch/supper guests had already given us a cyclamen and a bromeliad, so we have a bit of colour on show.  The bromeliad, meanwhile, has started to put up another spike, and I seem yet again to have failed to kill the phalaenopsis (another gift from supper guests years ago), which is putting up a new leaf, though not so far another flower spike.

Ever the gardener, I have ordered the charlotte seed potatoes and a few more growing bags, together with a batch of onion sets.  Rather a lot of last year's onion crop has rotted, so I need to swot up on harvesting and storage.  Meanwhile, our perennial seedlings, bought as 'pluglets' are doing well in the sitooterie, though they already need potting on. 

I suppose it's only to be expected as the years pile on: this year looks like being somewhat hospital-intensive.  I'm down for a trip to the eye clinic in February, and am waiting for a date with the knee fixers at Benenden.  First meeting with a physiotherapist tomorrow, though I've been doing exercises (to little avail) for three months on the basis of telephone consultations.  Watch this space.