Saturday, 18 March 2017

St Patrick's Day musings

Well, penned the following day...  Yesterday, my late Ma's 99th birthday, was fine, and she'd have approved of my getting a couple of tablecloths, numerous tea towels and a week's worth of shirts and smalls dried on the line, not to mention four napkins ironed (a rare word in my vocabulary).  It was a damn' chilly process, though: even later when I was taking stuff off the line, it was still cold.  Still, we did give the barbecue its first exercise of the year at lunch time, grilling a packet of Fortnums' Nürnberger Bratwurst.  Garnished with salad, honest!

Our performance yesterday evening at the Citizens' Advice quiz was about on a par with last year's, when we finished fifth after a three-way tie for second out of 18 teams.  This time we were fourth after two drawn seconds out of 17 tables.  And just like last year, we had dreadful nights of indigestion from the fish and chips.  Oh well, all in a good cause.

Nice day with the Rayners on Tuesday.  We fed them after a fashion: roast squash etc soup, tarte soleil with pasta and Martyn's home-made pesto, rhubarb crumble.  They invariably have their five a day: that day, we did too, thanks to Martyn's efforts.  

The egregious social ineptitude of the US President in footage of his meeting with Chancellor Merkel would beggar belief were it not so predictable.  Official: I no longer value democracy.  And am increasingly glad I'm old and childless.

The only source of optimism is the garden.  The grass got its first cut on Wednesday when my day at the hobby had run short, as is so frequently the case.  The mower started once I had given it the correct treatment, and stopped when it ran out of fuel.  There was something approaching a pub gin measure of spirit in the can, and it was just enough to finish the job.  Just a high trim for the first cut, but it looks a bit better.  And the fuel can now contains 6l of Sainsbury's worst unleaded, ready for the next time.

First colour is showing on the magnolia, and the daphnes, presents from Mr & Mrs Engineer Smith a couple of years ago, are starting to flower.  The crocuses and snowdrops have pretty much come and gone, but we have the best show of daffodils we can remember.  The roses are shooting away well for the most part, and we're slowly making a start on the perpetual motion of weed-chasing. Next job will be to move the seedlings on to their next stage, and to get some more seeds sown.  The charlottes, meanwhile, are chitting away happily in an egg tray in the garage, and we'll no doubt get them started before our next trip south in five or six weeks' time.  And I suppose I ought to be re-potting and feeding the cuttings that have made it through the winter. Question: if I sell plants out the front with all proceeds to Disgustedville Citizens' Advice, is tax payable?


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