Silver linings

The issue that led to our cancelling our cruise turned out to be less serious than we thought.  Remains to be seen whether the insurance will pay up.  

The other good news is that we get to see the garden at its best.  The roses are coming into flower, the rhododendrons are looking great, and sowings of sweet peas and nasturtiums have germinated.  So too have the tomatoes, though we sowed too late to expect much of a crop.  Our little rosemary hedge is looking good: Ben clipped it down a bit last week to encourage it to keep bushing out.  The cornus and willow are sprouting well after Ben’s and my efforts to hack down last year’s growth, so we should have plenty of colour next winter.  The roses have responded remarkably well to a top dressing of muck, and even without that, Queen Elizabeth has nearly grown past the top of the kitchen window: astonishing, since it is growing in next to nothing in a tiny bed on the terrace.

We’re using our unexpected free time to catch up with friends: tea with a local friend tomorrow, and I’m meeting ex-beak colleagues in a week or so’s time.  It’s a shame we’ve missed a chance to get together with the friends from Wakefield we met on another cruise years ago, but plan a trip to Yorkshire in the summer, and will hope to catch up then.

The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley

 For reasons I’ll maybe come back to in due course, we have cancelled our stay in the floating care home.  We’re sad not to be getting together again with our friends from Wakefield: maybe another time.  

Well, I guess we’ll get to enjoy the garden, which is at its best in May and June.  Nasturtiums and sweet peas are germinating, as is the rocket, and I shall sow some tomatoes in the hope of a late crop.  Too late for first early spuds, though, so we’ll have to rely on Fortnums.

Spring at last

The recent warm weather - and Ben’s administration of three cubic meters of muck - have kicked the garden into action.  The climber Arthur Bell is flowering vigorously, Blue for You will be next, and Geoff Hamilton, aka Edna, in whose memory we planted it, is beginning to show colour.  More recently planted, Diamond Days Forever (Michael), Ingrid Bergman (Rowena) and Phab Gold (Tim).  Round the side, the viburnum is looking terrific, and Compassion (Margaret) is doing well.  Hope this doesn’t sound too morbid: I like to think of people we miss through beautiful things that I can look after, rather than with cut flowers that go in the compost after two day.  Must look out for something to remember Mary by: it’ll have to be strong and in yer face!

Sweet peas seem to be germinating, as is rocket.  Parsley and nasturtium are taking their time.  We shall have fewer apples this year - probably just as well, since we’re still slowly working our way through last year’s bumper crop.  We haven’t started spuds or tomatoes this year, since we shall be away when they’re in most need of attention.  I’ll do a late sowing of tomatoes, and hope for the best.

We’re looking forward to a lazy couple of weeks in the floating care home, though we’re a bit anxious about the fact that our cabin is just above the galley!  But we’re looking forward to seeing new places, and even more to seeing old friends we met years ago on another Mediterranean cruise.  Watch this space!

McPherson’s Law

What can go wrong will go wrong.  I had the German conversation gang here this morning - eight of us round the table.  It being my turn to host, I’d chosen a couple of texts, one about the value of eating together, and the other about the importance of drinking plenty of water.  The first sounded a bit ’Polyanna’, and the second a bit schoolmarmish, so that provoked some lively discussion.

Unfortunately, our cafetière sprung a leak just I was preparing coffee for the guests.  There was just enough proper coffee to go round them as wanted, but I had to make the decaf stuff by the old-fashioned jug method.  Well, so far as I know, ingen spudde, ingen dog, as my Swedish friends would say.  And I’ve ordered a replacement from our generous and altruistic friend Mr Bezos, malgré moi.

Well, the long awaited cheque has at last appeared in the bank account, so I shall unleash my snottygram to the CEO tomorrow.

Hypertension, and relaxation

The bank story went from awful to ridiculous.  After trying for days by phone to reach the branch I'd sent the cheque to, they finally answered their phone yesterday.  (In the meantime, their call centre operation had achieved the square root of bugger-all.)  ‘No we haven’t received the cheque.  But it might be in our outside letterbox.’  Evidently they don’t check the letterbox often, because the postman usually comes in and hands the mail across the counter.  At my insistence, they checked said mailbox and found my letter and the cheque.  At this point, it would have been lying in the mailbox for fully a week.  I’ll wait until the amount appears in our account, whereupon I shall fire off a snottygram to the CEO of the bank, and look to make a move.  The bank’s automated services are now working well, after something of a mess as they tried to align the buyer bank and seller bank’s IT systems.  But my confidence is wrecked: why do I find myself dealing with such hopelessly incompetent banks?  Names on application.

The car went in on Tuesday for two days for attention to a rattle next to my right lughole.  On the drive home, said rattle was still evident, so it was straight back to the garage.  The mechanic had been told to look for a rattle from nearside front (where I’d reported a noise from the brake, which they’d already sorted).  I took him out for a little drive so he could locate the rattle I'd reported.  Having been without the car for 24+ hours to no useful effect, I’ve now booked it in again in June month!  Paciência.

Today’s beautiful weather has allowed us to sit outside under the umbrella for much of the afternoon.  The painters were here yesterday, so we no longer have to look at a rather weather-beaten summerhouse when we’re out on the terrace.  It’s looking smart, and painter Jason had time to paint the hall skirting boards as well. The hall ceiling awaits his attention, but we’re finally making some progress.  

Snarl again

I mentioned my struggle to get a savings account closed and the balance transferred.  The bank’s pop-up dame couldn’t deal with the cheque, and recommended that I post it to the Chatham branch, which I duly did.  I’m still waiting to hear, two days after posting, whether it has got through.  The on-line banking works fine, but there are a lot of routine things that need a visit to a branch, and our nearest one is three quarters of an hour’s drive away.  The pop-up is no substitute.  

Oh well, grizzle over: there could be - and are - worse problems.  We had a most enjoyable session of German conversation at Linda’s on Tuesday.  She had been given a piece about how modern colloquial German has adopted the word Maus (mouse) as a term for any person, often in compounds such as jemaus in place of jemand (someone).  It was striking how many anglicisms (or neo-anglicisms) seem to be OK in written German: Influencer, Softness, Me-time, and many others.  I’m in an endless struggle to reconcile my linguist instincts with a lingering pedantry.  For example, I’d better get used to decimation’s inflation from 10% to 99%.

We enjoy spring in the garden as much as summer. The bulbs are going over, but we have enough diversity of narcissus varieties to keep a display going for weeks and weeks.  The fritillaries have done well as usual, and the roses are coming along nicely.  Today I’ve sown some sweet peas, after getting them sprouted on the kitchen window ledge.  Previous attempts failed, probably because I didn’t RTFI [read the … instructions].

Annie next door asked, via Ben, if we’d be willing to part with the thuggish hypericum that was violating her airspace in the bed between our drives.  We’d have had to shift it anyway at some point, so maybe we were lucky to get it done on Annie’s bill) rather than ours, and without breaking sweat ourselves.  Today I’ve planted a cistus pulverulens in its place, grown from a cutting, and shall try to keep it in order.  I’ve planted out the leftover primulas from our last garden centre purchase, so the bed is at least populated for the moment. 

Mixed week

A fair bit of admin: the annual boiler service, a chat with our finance man, a bit of routine shopping, cooking and gardening.  Limited gardening: it has been a bit too showery and windy, but the grass is cut, I’ve sowed some nasturtium seeds and started preparing sweet pea seeds on the kitchen window ledge.  I’ve never grown them before, so will be interested to see if they come to anything.

On Wednesday we had a funeral to attend in Eltham: a former colleague and friend Mary, with whose (third) husband Michael I worked later.  An exuberant character and expert hostess, so the stories told had the chapel in hoots of laughter.  It was a beautiful day, and it being half term, the driving wasn’t too awful.

Today we’ve been to a good concert at the local assembly hall: Gershwin’s An American in Paris, and Ravel’s piano concerto (for both hands), with Jeneba Kanneh-Mason as the soloist.  Superb: it was the first time we’d heard the latter, and reckon it needs more exposure.  Perhaps it’s such a rarity because of the enormous demands it makes on pianist and orchestra alike.  It was well-placed right after the Gershwin piece, since it draws on a lot of jazz and blues influences.  Jeneba gave a virtuoso solo encore, but to my shame, I didn’t recognise the piece.  I shall enquire…  The local orchestra has improved greatly in the time we’ve been here - perhaps thanks to the recently retired conductor, who happens to be a distant cousin of Martyn and Sandra.  The tickets were a treat from Sandra, who was unfortunately unwell on the day.  Martyn wasn’t much better, so we stayed only for the first half, but didn’t mind missing Mussorgsky’s Pictures and Ravel’s Bolero.

Back to the usual routines next week. Covid-19 booster tomorrow, then a visit from a painter to quote for a couple of jobs we’re too lazy to do ourselves.  Tuesday: German conversation, then a visit to our generous bank’s one-day-a-week pop-up presence.  If they can’t deal with the transaction I need, I may blow a gasket.  They have shut down the local branch, and have proved bloody awkward to deal with, the nearest branch being a good half hour’s drive away.  I’ve not been too lucky with banks in recent years.  Snarl.