Spring, spring, spring!

Well, to be more accurate, spring, spring, spring, spring, spring, spring, spring, spring, spring.  Oh, and Spring.

The repair to the for'ard rail of the chair seemed to have set solid after an overnight rest, so yesterday morning we set about the task of fitting the new springs to it.  Nine of the brutes, as you'll have gathered from the above.  Before that could be done, the upholstery had to be released from the rail and the bottoms of the arms.  There was no way I could stretch the springs into place and secure them with the nails single-handed, so Martyn willingly allowed himself to be pressed into service with the tack hammer - which he bought me some years ago, together with the mallet, Jack the Ripper (ripping chisel) and much else.  Well, much sweat and vile language later, the chair is now re-sprung, and the finishings re-applied to the rail.  It is better nor it was, but I'm still going to need a new cushion.  Maybe I'll just go and see my upholstery gurus in Sevenoaks and get them to do it.  Or I could order up a few miles of cotton felt and re-do it, myself.....oh come on, man: spend some money!  I've pretty much come to the conclusion that upholstery is no longer part of my repertoire, except perhaps for re-covering small pieces.  My hands are hurting like hell.

Hellish too was Sainsbury's this morning.  I opted for the self checkout thingy, which didn't like my bags, and needed a further human intervention to approve my vinous purchases.  Lengthy waits each time.  Getting out of the car park was even more fun.  I suppose I ought to know better than to go shopping on a Sunday, which now seems to be the nation's favourite food shopping day.  Why?  Perhaps working people are forced to do Saturday overtime in order to pay the rent/mortgage.  I'm glad I'm old, by and large, and blessed with a decent pension - and just need to do a bit of work on scheduling the shopping trips.

There are signs of Spring here and there, notably buds on deciduous subjects, and a bit of white showing on the snowdrops - a gift from Celia, some of which I've shared with the Coopers in Mèze, where I gather they're also coming through. I really look forward to some flowers in the garden at this time of year, but I expect I'll be grizzling about untidy bulb foliage ere long.