Given today’s agenda, we didn’t make much of yesterday’s birthday: laundry, shopping and token gardening. Martyn treated me to fish and chips for lunch, so we restrained ourselves in the evening: bruschette with the last of the bought tomatoes and a handful of herbs from the garden.
Today we were on the road fairly early for the drive to Aldershot crematorium. The event was a shade surreal: the chapel was laid out to accommodate 18 only. Although hymn singing is banned in churches at the moment, Crematoria are exempt. But singing in a sparse congregation was pretty dismal. (And it didn’t help that they both overshot my ever-shrinking range.) We gathered afterwards at John’s place for excellent sandwiches (and uncomfortable proximity to strangers).
We both feel rather drained this evening: a combination of the emotion of the occasion and the M25, I guess. More energy tomorrow, I hope: Martyn has bought me a miniature greenhouse to replace one or both of my now very shabby cold frames. It arrived in flat pack format, so I’ll have to dust off my IKEA skills. Meanwhile, this year’s plantings are starting to feed us. We’ll need to turn out some more spuds tomorrow, I think, and there should be enough runner beans for one meal.
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