Trost in Unglück

After yesterday's wasted journey, it was a pleasant surprise to arrive at the wheel fettlers' place this morning to find that they had billed me for one wheel only to make amends for our wasted journey and time.  Sometimes it pays to be understanding and not to make a fuss: things might have been different had we been planning to travel abroad today, of course.  As instructed, they fitted both newly balanced wheels on the front: the corroded wheels had arrived on diametrically opposite corners.  Remains to be seen, of course, how effective the balancing has been, but I did specify that I wanted them in balance at French motorway speeds, which the last job (by someone else) hadn't achieved.  Anyway, they look fine now, at least. Spit 'n Polish, Sovereign Way, Tonbridge.  I've used them a couple of times before, and have been impressed by their work each time.

When mother-in-law died, I bought Martyn a David Austin English rose named Geoff Hamilton.  Needless to say, perhaps, it's known as Edna in these parts, and looks set to flower like mad for its ninth year in succession.  It is planted where we can keep an eye on it from the dining room french widows [sic: ack. G Hoffnung et al].  At the other side of the steps is another vigorous floribunda, the Justice of the Peace, planted three years later, bred to mark the 650th anniversary of the creation of said office.  The latter is budding up nicely, but not showing colour just yet.  A Justice of the Peace wouldn't dare try to upstage mother-in-law.