Back to the routines

Glad we got the grass cut earlier in the week: it was just dry enough to cut by mid-afternoon, and there has been a lot of rain since.  That's autumn for you, I suppose.  The outlook from the dining room is quite pleasant with the grass cut and the leaves turning on the cornus.  Said cornus was an utter thug back at Smith Towers, needing to be cut back several times a year lest it completely block the path.  Its offspring (it layers very easily) proceeded to sulk for years here at Forges-l'Evêque, but are now showing their parent's vigorous habit, rewarding us with lots of red bark in the winter.  We've had some other slow starters this year: the courgettes looked like doing nothing, but the two surviving plants are cropping like mad now.  The rudbeckias were similarly disappointing, but the few survivors are flowering like mad.  I have already saved some seed, and will try harder next year.


Less routine yesterday was an early morning trip to the dentist.  I'd chipped a piece off a molar while chomping on some French bread: this is not the first time it has happened.  My usual chap was doing emergencies only this week, so I was seen by a relative newcomer to the practice, a charming young woman from Turkey.  Well, she had me patched up and out in no time, so I was rather early for art class.  I therefore headed for Tonbridge High Street, looking to distribute among the various charity shops surplus books that had been languishing in the boot since we cleared the bookcase.  My first port of call, The Salvation Army, was happy to take them all, so that saved me a bit of shoeleather.

First art class of the autumn (for me: the others have been back for a couple of weeks).  Alas, one of our happy band, Mary, was not there: she died a week or so ago.  Very sad.  She had been in a lot of pain of late, but still soldiered on with her painting until the early summer.  She painted in water-based oils, and specialised in landscapes on small canvases.  I don't think she'd have liked yesterday's still life task any more than I did: Miss had brought in a bag of chestnuts and another of seashells.  In a rare moment of compliance, I agreed to have a crack at it, and turned out a couple of little sketches.  I retired injured about half an hour before the end of the class when the clamour of protest from my hands got too much. 

After last year's flu jab, I vowed never to have another, having started a heavy cold the following day.  Common sense tells me that a bad cold is better than yer actual influenza, with its risk of complications that can kill old geezers like me.  So I was down there for my jab before I was properly awake this morning, and we'll wait and see what happens this year.

Two contemporary facts about insurance: 1. loyalty is pointless, and  2. it pays to shop around.  The RAC saw fit to hike my car insurance renewal quote by close to 30%.  Age UK offered me cover at a good 30% over even the RAC's exorbitant quotation.  A quick visit to Direct Line brought the premium down to better than last year's RAC premium, and another to the meerkats got me a deal with LV at close to half the RAC's figure.  These jokers rely on buyer inertia, and I find it just despicable that Age UK should ask so much, particularly since their target market is likely to be more prone to loyalty and less internet-savvy and bolshy than your obed. servt.  Next target: the energy suppliers.