Work in progress

We’d been hoping to get the cloakroom joinery and tiling finished last weekend, but unfortunately our man was not feeling well.  Waiting for news.  There’s still a month to get it finished before James the painter comes in.  Never stops, does it, this home maintenance?  Meanwhile, while I was was engaged in my hobby on Monday, Martyn did the long overdue sanding down of the threshold between the dining room and the sitooterie, and I slapped on a few coats of varnish yesterday.  Remains to brush in another dose of ant killer, just in case, and then run in some silicone mastic.  (I am full of admiration for the ant, inspired, I suppose, by scripture and La Fontaine, but they ain’t welcome in my living quarters.)

Things are moving forward in the garden.  Dwarf French beans are germinating at last, the runner beans are tentatively approaching their poles and the spuds are reaching the tops of their bags.  We’ll need a trip to the stores this weekend for more compost.  Someone once remarked that we probably spend more in growing medium than we would buying new spuds from the shop.  Doubtless true, but our charlottes taste better than anything shop-bought, and the spent compost improves the texture of our awful clay soil (even if this occasionally leads to an uninvited spud amongst the roses!)

In the flowering department, a few perennials and over-wintered annuals are starting to flower: cistus pulverulens and purpureus, eschscholzia californica, helianthemums and much else.  I sowed seeds yesterday of basil and pulsatilla vulgaris: the latter harvested a few days ago and dried on the sitooterie window ledge, the former bought from Fortnums.  We shall see: as we always say, they’ll do one thing or the other.  Despite sporadic bursts of planting, there remain hosts of bedding plants to put out.  Mañana.  Talvez.

We took a ride up to London on Tuesday for drinks with an institution that hopes to inherit from us.  Very interesting, candid, if opinionated speech from a former top diplomat (with whom we agreed) about the little local political difficulty.  But the walking involved was a bit much for a first outing since Martyn’s recent health event - particularly since he’d overdone the housework and DIY the day before while I was out to play at the hobby.  I am looking on eBay for a ball and chain.

April showers. In May.

And none so chilly for the Tories as their local election results, notably in these parts.  The main local issue is the Council’s plan to redevelop the town hall and Assembly Hall site, and build new offices and a fixed seating theatre down by the station.  This would involve borrowing £77M, the debt serviced by cuts in local services and grants.  One rumour is that the Council leader (and more of him anon) wanted a theatre that could handle a performance of 42nd Street.  Well, we’ve been to excellent performances of Chicago, Cabaret, the Sound of Music and much else at the Assembly Hall, on which millions have only recently been spent on carpeting, upholstery and decoration.  In any case, we can soon hop on a train to the West End.  A major asset of the old Hall is that it can be adapted quickly from tiered seating to a large flat floor - ironically enough, the scene yesterday of the counting of votes in the local elections.

This crazy vanity project is supposed to bring money to the borough in the form of tourist revenues and business rates: the arguments are a bit nebulous.  Its inherent madness has led to the formation of a new political grouping, which I’ll nickname the Disgustedville Alliance.  It made significant gains on Thursday.  When we went to vote, we found only three names on the ballot paper: a Lib Dem, a Tory (the current Council leader) and an Alliance candidate.  To our surprise, our usually highly Selfservative ward voted in droves for the Alliance candidate, ousting the Council leader by a fat majority.  I think the pattern elsewhere in the country was a richly deserved thrashing of both Labour and Tory parties for their lamentable handling of the EU exit issue.  (I struggle to utter the B word.). But local issues may have played a part elsewhere too.

Social media: we recently had a couple of new WCs and a basin installed, having first researched products on line.  Now, every time we log in, we get adverts for miscellaneous sanitary ware.  How many chiottes do these jokers think we can accommodate?  Outdoors, after several failed attempts to contact the importers of our lawnmower to order the necessary parts, I resorted to the egregious Mr Bedos, and soon found supplies, got them within 72 hours and fitted them yesterday.  Should make the chore a little easier.  But I imagine my screen will be full of lawnmower spares adverts in coming months.

Here on cultive son jardin.  Martyn is well, and coping fine with the new medications.  We saw our lovely new doctor last week, and she was pleased with his blood pressure.  I’ve had the periodical review of my prescriptions following a blood test, and gather that my machinery too is functioning pretty well.

Out in the garden, the cosmos are settling in and flowering well, the antirrhinums are slowly acclimatising and I’ve planted up the patio brazier with pelargoniums and lobelias.  The spuds will need earthing up ere long, and the runner beans are looking pretty healthy.  The French beans have yet to germinate, perhaps discouraged by the fluctuations in temperature and rainfall.  As we always say of horticulture hereabouts, they’ll do either one thing or the other.