It never rains...

The corralling of the numerous rubbish bins seems to have paid off, in that I didn’t have to chase cans and bottles round the garden the day after the storm.  Of the fences, alas, the news is less good.  Both have elected to diverge from the vertical, so a chap is coming round on Sunday to assess whether they can be cobbled up again.  It seems like no time since we had them put up, but whatever the guarantees on the posts may say, at least one has rotted, and where one leads, others doubtless follow.  Not a cheap business, this home ownership thing.

The credit card is taking a hammering this month.  Mr Cunard required the balance for our May trip to points north, and the time for my eyesight check came round.  Yes: new prescriptions for both distance (better) and reading (worse).  I’ve had the half-moons reglazed, but since I didn’t like the frames on my old all-rounders, I’ve gone for a new frame.  The deal was cheaper than last time,  but still a couple of months’ state pension.  Today the car has been in for a couple of annoying little repairs, and come out with an estimate for two more, dammit.  They may have to wait a while.  

I’m starting to enjoy the garden again. The cornus bushes have given us some winter colour, but now that they’re starting into growth again, the ones at the front have had their annual haircuts.  The cornus and I sport the same hairstyle at this time of year, so the garden waste bin is pretty full again.  There’s another cornus at the back, but I’ll leave it until there’s a bit more to look at from the dining room windows.  One of the patio roses at the front door is still in flower, north-facing and altogether! It’s in a sheltered spot under the awning that runs across the front of the house.  Of the other shrubs at the front, the magnolia and azalea have healthy looking buds, and the camellia is just about to burst into flower.  The clematis is flowering shyly, and I think the viburnum will be quite good in a while.  

We have a fair bit of colour from containers near the dining room windows: sundry primulas are flowering brightly, and in the borders nearby the bulbs and primroses are starting to put on a decent show.  Further up the garden, behind the (overflowing) pond, the hellebores are flowering very well.  It’s a bit soon to tell, but I’m hoping the hydrangea will do better this year.  The summer before last it was cut down by the drought, and although it has grown back, it gave us no flowers last year.

A propos flowers, and given that I had the German conversation crowd here yesterday (just four of us this time), I’ve been looking up names of flowers.  Snowdrops are ‘little snow bells’, and daffodils ‘Easter bells’.  Fair enough.  But why hellebores translate as ‘sneeze root’ escapes me - so far.  And given that violets bloom freely in the Alps, why are cyclamen ‘alpine violets’?

Müesli and things

I’d been getting rather hooked on Fortnums’ luxury cherry and berry müesli, with the additional decadence of the same supplier’s rhubarb yoghourt.  Delicious though it is, it struck me that I could probably do better from scratch, and probably with less sugar.  A shop in town sells all sorts of grains and dried fruits, including a müesli base of various grades of oats and rye flakes.  I’ve been experimenting as and when I’ve found the various ingredients suggested by an on-line recipe, and imagine my concoction is only marginally less wholesome than the ready made stuff.  Oats, wheat germ, sultanas, soft brown sugar, chopped prunes, ditto walnuts.  Mixed with Greek-style yoghourt, a little milk and a curl of honey.  Mix well and soak for a good half hour.  Add a sliced banana or a few stewed prunes.

Tempting though it is to ascribe our better than usual performance at last night’s mayor’s quiz to the day’s hearty breakfast, I think it had more to do with newcomers to the team, Alex and her husband Mike.  We finished fifth equal out of 34 teams, one place behind the local MP.  Still, that’s the closest we’ve got, and quite an improvement on last year’s 12th place.

We’re battening down the hatches again: as I write, we’re waiting for storm Ciara to reach us.  We get strong winds quite often in the winter, and it often sets up enough of a swirl to send our ever-multiplying rubbish bins flying.  I’ve done my best to circle the wagons, as it were, but I guess I may be chasing the contents of the recycling bin round the back yard again tomorrow.

Longer days at last.

It’s always a comfort to see some light in the sky on opening the curtains in the morning, but we’ve a fair bit of winter to get through yet.  I’ve planted out the last of the primulas we bought a while back, so the basket by the front door looks a bit more welcoming, and there is some more colour to be seen from the dining room doors.  We have crocuses and snowdrops in flower, and there are signs of life on the cornus bushes.  Neighbours' gardens are ahead of ours: daffodils in flower and tulips in good leaf.  In one of them, when I was out for my walk this morning, a ceanothus was flowering.  The latest to flower in our weed patch are the hellebores, and they are doing better than ever. 

We’ve had a few sharp frosts, so I’d to take it a bit gingerly on my drive to the hobby one of those mornings.  The bigger issue has been flooding: my usual route across the valley and over the Downs is very muddy and wet: there is no point getting the car washed at the moment.  Near us, a tree came down last week on the way out of the village, falling away from the road, much of which it took with it.  The road is still passable with one lane open: goodness knows when it will be repaired.  The state of the roads is shocking at the moment, with deep potholes everywhere.  As a friend said of a third-world country where she used to live, you can easily spot the drunk drivers from the fact that they drive in a straight line.  I have wrecked one tyre already this year.

Martyn has been really quite poorly for much of January, but is at last eating well again, and feeling generally better.  As for me, the damp weather is not helping my ancient joints, but if that’s all I have to complain about, I’ve a lot to be grateful for.  I had a glass of champagne just after midnight on New Year’s Day, and thereafter no booze for the whole of January.  My weight is down a bit - indeed, I can now get into a pair of jeans that have been too tight on me for some years!