Another funeral

We sent off our neighbour Geoff today.  He was diagnosed with acute leukaemia around the same time I was diagnosed with a different variety of the crab, so we occasionally swapped oncology war stories.  We learned at the funeral today that he had been a project manager on the Rio-Niteroi bridge, and that he was a competent pianist.  What a lot of stories and music we could have shared.

A few days earlier, I joined a ‘walk and talk’ session on the nearby common, organised by the local u3a, guided by friendly and knowledgeable Commons Rangers Gemma and Dan.  Very informative and interesting, and another chance to meet nice people with similar interests.  It did, however, take me to the limit of my endurance: a mere 3000 + a few paces, since the day was warm and humid.  Must build up.

Sonst: we had a nice Sunday with Martyn’s sister Sandra.  A simple lunch: a chicken casserole alongside charlottes from the garden, followed by an apple crumble, using apples from our tree.  It shouldn’t be too long before we’re cropping tomatoes, and we have lots of potatoes to lift.  Let’s hope for some good cropping conditions.

My pen friend

In the early 60s - back in the days of letter writing - I signed up with an outfit called the International Youth Service.  Based in Turku, Finland, it put you in contact with people in countries you were interested in, paid for in international reply coupons.  Sometimes a letter would arrive out of the blue from someone looking for a correspondent in your country.  One such was Ria Maartense, one of the thirteen children of a postman in The Hague.  She and I exchanged hundreds of letters and postcards over the years, though more recently we stayed in touch through social media.  But it was via snail mail that I learned this morning that she died earlier this month, aged 74.

It must have been a sudden thing: my last contact with her was in June when she posted a clip on Facebook of her and her dog Jessie dashing round an obstacle course.  She’d always seemed as fit as a fiddle, going on long hikes, including the Camino.  Perhaps this has spared her the slow decline that others have to suffer, but it will have come as a terrible shock to her family.  Very sad.

The preoccupations of advancing years

A glance at the diary reveals visits to the optician, doctor, pharmacy, sleep study, x-rays, blood tests and the like.  To be expected, I guess, now that we’re over the hill.  Nothing too dramatic, though Martyn is struggling with a persistent gut bug.  

Fortunately the weather is cooling down a bit after three heatwaves in the space of about three weeks.  We’ve had a few good downpours, so we have plenty of rainwater for the tomatoes and flower containers.   We are starting to enjoy home-grown potatoes, starting with the ones that got away last year, and shall soon be harvesting this year’s Charlottes.  The tomatoes are setting nicely, so it won’t be too long before we’re enjoying them, diseases permitting.  We had some blight last year, so are keeping fingers crossed.  I sowed spinach the other day, and the seedlings are starting to come through.

Today I’ve hoiked up some polyanthus from pots on the terrace and replanted with antirrhinums grown from last year’s seed.  The polyanthus are now in a raised bed, recently vacated by our freebie spuds.  I’ll maybe ask Ben to plant them out in the autumn when the ground is less baked.  Roses are for the most part between flushes, so I’ve been dead-heading assiduously in the hope of promoting more flowers.  Two that we got last year from a huge shopping mall garden centre have been doing exceptionally well: Precious Gold and Precious Ruby.  Of the old guard, Queen Elizabeth has put up some vigorous new shoots despite being planted in next to nothing next to the sink drain!

Though it’s cooler today, it’s really steamy, so a scant hour in the garden was enough.  I hope the storms forecast for the coming few days bring a bit of relief.  Meanwhile, I’m watering from the fullest of the water butts to make space for new rainfall!  As you see, I live by the Yorkshire dictum: see all, hear all, say nowt.  Eat all, sup all, pay nowt.  And if tha does owt for nowt, do it for thissen.

Apologies for Absence

Not that it’s much of an excuse, but we’ve had quite a busy month, with a fair few medical visits, a spot of entertaining, gardening and the inevitable home and vehicle admin.  

We had a very pleasant lunch here with our friends Chris and Jon.  Chris and I met at art classes, which gave way to largely unstructured Thursday morning meetings where we’d sometimes work to a theme and at other times just pleased ourselves.  That all ended during the pandemic, alas, though the group has met once since then, but for tea and chat rather than painting.  Anyway, Chris and Jon were on fine form, and we had a good catch-up.  Another day we had tea and cake with our neighbour Annie, Martyn having baked a superb chocolate sponge cake - gluten-free: he has the knack of getting the texture perfect.

As to vehicles, Chris and Jon rolled up in a rather natty red Tesla.  My Scenic was in dock for a couple of days on a recall to deal with a potentially troublesome fault in the battery cooling system.  Martyn’s Fiat too has to go in on a recall: evidently there is work to do to ensure compliance with emission regulations.  Er, hello?  Aren’t EVs supposed to be emission free?  All will doubtless be revealed in due course, and we’ll book it in for an overdue annual service at the same time.

Our other form of locomotion, Martyn’s bike, has also been in for some attention.  Bike fettler Chris diagnosed it a couple of months ago, and sent us off to order up new brake and gear shift levers and cables.  Chris does a monthly session at our village’s repair café, where you may remember we’ve had the clocks fixed in the past.  Next month I’ll take some secateurs along for sharpening.  Wonderful institution.  While we were there I asked Chris whether he knew Nick (The Bike) Gritton, a keen competitive cyclist and bike fixer.  Nick lived directly opposite me when I was in our nearby homophone town.  He is now Chris’s next-door neighbour, just down the road from us.  We’ve thus re-established contact, and hope to catch up soon.  I’ve noticed before that, the older I get, the more frequent are the coincidences.

The garden is doing well.  We’ve had a first lot of potatoes: we’d inadvertently left quite a few in the ground last year, and they have done well.  We have another bed of potatoes further up the garden, and they have not appreciated the drought and 30°+ temperatures.  A good spell of rain last night seems to have refreshed them, but we’ll need to get them up soon.  The tomatoes are starting to set fruit - we started them rather late this year.  I couldn’t restrain myself from rooting a handful of side shoots, so we have another half dozen plants to add the the dozen originals.

Driving hereabouts continues to be hellish.  There are many road closures on account of the need to replace the crumbling network of iron gas mains.  I had to go to the County Town on Friday to collect a sleep study test kit from the county diagnostic centre.  Fortunately, I’d left enough time, since I had to reroute to avoid the very long queue at the local road works.  It didn’t help that on the alternate route an absolute Arschloch in a Range Rover decided he didn’t want to wait while a car approached from the opposite direction down the single track stretch.  He consequently had to reverse, and almost hit me.  I had to sound the horn!  A bit closer to my destination, I got stuck behind a tractor for five minutes or so.  I was pretty shaky by the time I got there.  Small wonder that I no longer enjoy driving.  That said, I’m enjoying the silence and responsiveness of our EVs - ah: that reminds me to go and disconnect the Renault from the charger!

Today in the garden

June’s the month for roses, and this year they are doing well; perhaps all the better for the administration of a spot of good muck last year.  This one is Ingrid Bergman: we planted her in memory of our lovely neighbour Rowena, who succumbed to the same illness as Ingrid. 

The thing with roses is that they need good pruning, regular dead-heading and the occasional feed, so I tickled in a handful of blood, fish and bone at pruning time.  Even the miniature roses by the front door are doing well, since Ben put the last of last year’s muck round them.  We’ve yet to replace the climber killed by the fencing people.  Perhaps we’ll get a bare-root one later in the year.

The membrane and gravel at the front doesn’t really stop the weeds, but at least it makes them easier to pull up.  I’ve pulled out dozens more verbena bonariensis today, as well as the usual suspects: dandelions, willowherb and grass.

A first lot of tomatoes are now in their final growing pots: the tall chrysanthemum pots we’ve used in years past.  I’ve prepared some wider pots with the watering trays designed for growbags, so will harden off a few more tomatoes and try them with that method.  We’re a bit late with the tomatoes this year, but ought to get something of a crop.  The first sowings in a heated propagator failed almost completely.  I might have to break down and get some decent seed compost next year - if I’m spared!

Family and things

We took a ride over to Rochester yesterday to meet some of Martyn’s Canadian cousins, who have been visiting to hear another family member sing at Glyndbourne.  They’re a very musical family, the Relyeas, and really delightful people.  They currently live on Vancouver Island, where I have lots of friends and relatives: must renew contacts.

We all met in the cathedral, where Sandra gave a guided tour: she is one of the company of meet-and-greet volunteers there, so is well briefed.  (She and the late Michael were married there, having met in the cathedral’s choral society, and Michael’s funeral took place there.)  We repaired to the Royal George for lunch, then wandered round the castle grounds before going our separate ways.  

Driving around here is dire.  We’ve been over to mid- and north Kent twice of late, and the experience has been altogether dreadful.  Decades of neglect have left the roads in a terrible state, and overdue gas main replacements are screwing things up still further.  I wonder what our new far-right county council will do to remedy matters, and am not holding my breath.

More time out

We were Sandra’s guests yesterday for lunch and a show.  The D-day Darlings did a show at the Hazlitt theatre in Maidstone.  Great entertainers, and a whole lot of fun.  As ever, though, the amplification was almost painfully overdone, which detracted a whole lot from our enjoyment.  The traffic was about as bloody awful as usual - I really dislike driving these days.  The centre of Maidstone is pretty much closed off, so we decided to head north and pick up the motorway.  His Majesty’s armed forces, meanwhile, had managed to crash or break down at the motorway junction roundabout, so we had a long wait.

A simpler outing today.  Martyn’s bike’s gear change shifters have seized up, so we took it down to our local repair café, where bike fettler Chris took a look at it.  Following his diagnosis, and with his expert help, we have ordered the necessary spare parts, and will take them and the bike along in early July for him to do the necessary.  Wonderful institution, the repair café.  We’ve had a couple of clocks sorted there.  Of course, I barked my knuckles getting the bike out of the boot, and hadn’t got the right size of plaster in the car.  The repair café sewing desk kindly applied scissors to cut something suitable.  And our neighbour Rosemary presided as ever over the kettle.

With the exception of one very unpleasant foul-mouthed neighbour (she is plainly no right in the heid) our environment is about all we could wish for.  We don’t live in our neighbours’ pockets, but lend a hand when we can, and so do they.  You need to like aeroplanes, of course, since we’re on the Gatwick approach when the wind’s coming from the west.  We’re far enough from the main road not to be troubled with traffic noise much of the time.  And the village provides most of what we need from day to day, and a decent cultural agenda too.  

So things could be worse.  I spent a while at hospital yesterday, preparing for planned surgery.  (I first wrote ‘preparing the ground’, but don’t think we’re quite there yet!).  All very professional, thorough and friendly.  Since the hospital is so comfortable, I’m not dreading the experience.