And finally…

Happy New Year to you all.  Lang may yir lums reek - wi’ ither fowk’s coal.

Done for another year

For the annual ramblings, go to the 6 December post

We had a quiet Christmas Day at home with Martyn’s sister Sandra.  We’d got a gammon joint and a chicken from our usual suppliers, boiled the former on Christmas Eve, and roasted the latter on the day.  Ham sandwiches at lunchtime, followed by mince pies with tea.  Roast chicken with stacks of veggies for dinner.  No Christmas pud, though: Martyn made raspberry pavlovas, so we felt nicely fed but not overly so.  

I’d booked tickets for the pantomime on Boxing Day, and we certainly enjoyed it: all well scripted, acted and ad-libbed by an amazing pantomime dame.  All a bit spoiled, though, by disco lighting and exaggerated amplification.  Though it wasn’t that well attended, the audience made enough noise to make it a success.  

I’d charged the car a couple of nights earlier, and to my huge embarrassment, it wouldn’t start for our trip to the Assembly Hall, so Sandra had to drive.  ‘Place card on zone, and press start’.  What bloody zone?  Where?  I later found the car’s g-spot, so we’re mobile again.  Handy, since it was parked in front of the garage, thus ruling out the chance to use Martyn’s car.  I start to hanker after software-free driving sometimes.

We’d planned a family party for today, but for one reason and another had to cancel at the last minute.  So the freezers remain pretty full, and we’ll reconvene some time in the spring.

Nice surprise

 For the annual ramblings, go to the 6 December post

Our bank’s on-line cheque deposit facility being unavailable, I legged it down to the village yesterday afternoon to deposit the cheque for our modest winnings in the local Hospice lottery.  The dedicated Post Office is no more, so the One Stop staff have to multi-skill - and they’re taking a while to get the hang of it all.  It eventually took three staff to sort it out - I hope.  Hardly surprising.

What was a surprise, and a delightful one, was in the queue at the chemists.  Two people ahead of me had met before, and the man said to the woman, ‘the last time we met here you were singing the Marseillaise!’.  Whereupon she launched into the first line, so I picked it up and ran with it, the two of us rendering the full thing with gusto, much to the amusement of the queue and the pharmacy staff.

Preparations for the festive hostilities advance slowly.  Pigs in blankets are in the freezer, joined today by a batch of palmiers.  Since we shall have veggie and gluten intolerant guests, I’ve done a batch of Madhur Jaffray chick peas today: they freeze well.  Martyn is visiting family and friends in Medway today, so won’t have to endure the exotic cooking aromas!

Annual ramblings, 2024

Altogether a less dramatic year, though we’re constantly reminded by our bodies that we are no spring chickens: Martyn turned 70 this year, and I’ve progressed into my 75th.  I’ve passed my year one check-ups following last year’s treatment and surgery, so am feeling positive.  

On the basis that the rainy day we’ve been saving for has already been and gone, we’ve been spending a bit on the house and the mews.  We now have an array of solar panels on the roof, and enjoy watching how they perform, even on dull days.

It has been a pleasure to be able to travel again, even though we find it a bit strenuous these days.  The garden keeps us busy (or feeling guilty about not getting busy out there), and has given us modest crops of fruit and veg.

As for matters political, I keep wondering each year at this time how the coming year will turn out, and how looming disaster can be avoided.  At least we are rid of an - at best - incompetent, rudderless government, though the new lot aren’t exactly covering themselves in glory.  Our relatively decent Tory MP decided not to stand for re-election, and now both the MP and the Local Council are LibDem.  Our solidly bourgeois ward has two Labour and one TW Alliance councillors.  Who’d ha’ thunk it?

Garden

We grew some of our favourite charlotte potatoes this year, but in the raised bed rather than in bags.  No significant difference in crop yield, so we’ll do that again.  We’d been impressed by the alexandra variety of salad potatoes supplied by good old Fortnums (as we nickname Lidl), so I tried - and failed - to find seed potatoes thereof.  Nothing ventured, I chitted a bag of supermarket alexandras and planted them out.  We won’t try that again: the yield was poor, and after all, newly dug charlottes are delicious anyway.  The Bramley apple tree yielded well this year following a bit of judicious thinning, and we still have some puree in the freezer.  We even had a couple of handfuls of blueberries and strawberries.

The moth having devastated our box hedging again last year, we took dozens of cuttings from the rather overgrown rosemary bush, and brought them on over the winter in a raised bed.  We’ve planted them out where the box used to be, and so far they’ve mostly survived and grown quite a bit.  There are a few gaps, but we have more cuttings coming on.

In the flower garden, we’re relying less on annual bedding and planting perennials where we can.  We grew some rudbeckias from saved seed, but they were a bit uninspiring compared with previous years.  Fuchsias and lobelias bought as plug plants did well in the containers together with some of last year’s geraniums.

Recent storms have brought down a stretch of fencing (again) and led to an alarming list on the one we had put up mere months ago.  Oh well, it’s only money.  The usual contractors are coming to estimate before Christmas, but I guess we’ll be wide open well into the New Year.  The grass has had its last cut of the year - I hope.  A soggy business at this time of year, not helped by hundreds of worm casts and lots of twigs blown down from the willow trees.

  

Arrivals

We had an enjoyable visit from Annie at New Year, but otherwise have offered little hospitality other than a few lunches.  In September we held a Macmillan Coffee Morning for around 30 neighbours and friends, and raised over three times as much as we did last time, five years ago.  That coincided with a visit from Martyn and Sandra’s cousin Susan who was visiting from the USA.  We’ve also had a pleasant gathering with Chez and Lorraine, whom we met on a cruise some years ago, and who were visiting relatives in town.  

Departures

A bit more to report this year.  We attempted a few years ago to take a cruise to Norway, something I’ve long wanted to do, but it was cancelled owing to the pandemic.  Probably no bad thing: we’d booked for April, and it would have been pretty cold above the arctic circle.  This time we booked a shorter trip at midsummer, visiting Bergen, Flåm and Olden, and enjoyed it very much.  Fabulous scenery, exceptionally good weather - even in the notoriously wet Bergen.  Towards the end of the cruise we were due to visit Haugesund, but could not owing to strong winds.  We weren’t too disappointed, since it seems to make most of its living by selling stuff to tourists.  Instead we were treated to the most delightful cruise up the Handangerfjord, with views of waterfalls and a glacier.

The cruise was on Cunard’s new Queen Anne, which is a fair bit larger than the Elizabeth and the Victoria, and we found it a bit crowded.  One evening up on deck, Martyn spotted someone luxuriating in the hot tub whom he recognised: Luke, one of a couple who publish on YouTube as the Cruise Monkeys.  His other half Gavin was nearby, and we had a pleasant chat with them.  (They agreed with us that the main advantage of the QA over its little sisters was the glazed door to the shower.)

Our next jolly jaunt was to Switzerland, where we rented a flat not far from Pam’s for a week, and toured as usual on trams, buses, trains and ships.  We flew from London City to Zürich and back, and took Swiss travel passes which covered us from arrival to departure, and as usual we used them to the full.  

We saw both old friends and familiar places, and new ones.  I’d corresponded with another YouTuber, Matthias Hänni, so arranged to meet him one Sunday morning at Bern airport.  Nice chap: his YouTube persona is Matt’s Aviation Channel.  We had a sandwich together and watched various flights come and go, then he kindly drove us to Münsingen, where we picked up our next train of the day.  Intending to return from Brig by the base tunnel, I suggested we go round by Lausanne instead, so we had quite an orgy of scenery.

As you see, we tended to build our itineraries as we went along, which is much easier now you can look up timetables on the smartphone.  We rarely did the exact trips we’d planned, but the public transport is so extensive and reliable that it’s easy to build a mystery tour ad hoc.

On our last full day in Switzerland we went to visit the Kaeserberg model railway near Fribourg, not helped by the fact that I put us on the right bus, but in the wrong direction).   Martyn picked up some ideas from this rather impressive layout, and we’ll see soon how he’s using them up in the railway room.  Later, we had a guided tour of Fribourg with an old colleague, Josy Pitteloud, whom I hadn’t seen this century.  We couldn’t accept his dinner invitation since we’d arranged to take Pam out later, but we had a pleasant aperitif with him on the terrace of a café overlooking the old town and the valley of the Sarine before returning to Bern.

Food and drink

We have shifted our fish and chips allegiance to a shop the other side of town, where they do a rather better job than our Turkish friends in the village.  The distance is a disincentive to indulging too often!  We had a nice lunch on our wedding anniversary at Sankey’s.  Not cheap, but good quality and a nice pub environment.  I’ve been experimenting with things like home-made tapenade and houmous, and inspired by a lunch at the National Trust property at Standen, Coronation chick peas!  We make a lot of use of the air fryer: it’s just so easy, for example, to do spice-coated chicken thighs on or off the bone.  I haven’t succeeded with bread yet, and in any case, I seem to be losing my touch.  If I get the bread to rise enough, it tends to be full of holes, and otherwise finishes up as rather small loaves.  (We also get rather good sourdough bloomers at Fortnums’…).  

I’m gradually discovering what I can and can’t safely eat given my abbreviated plumbing.  Big salads are off the agenda - well, big anything, really.

Wheels

Since Martyn’s Altea was getting on for sixteen years old, and hence Green Flag wouldn’t provide roadside assistance any longer, we started researching electric cars.  On test driving a Fiat 600e, we were so impressed that we placed an order there and then.  It is not the roomiest of cars, but is quiet, very responsive and nippy around town.  Driving it for a month or so persuaded me that my Ateca felt a bit coarse and sluggish by comparison.  So both our diesels are off to new homes, and for my new car I’ve gone back to Renault after a gap of 27 years: a Scenic E-tech.  Roomy and refined, and quite brisk enough for an old geezer like me.  Charging can be frustrating: getting the charger to work in the first place took several visits from the fitters (one of whom put his foot through the garage ceiling).  I think I’ve got the hang of it now.

Arts

Another meagre year.  I was quite attracted by an exhibition of paintings by a former neighbour who has gone on to wealth and fame, but was disappointed by the work - and shocked by the prices.  On our cruise, Cunard routed us to the dining room via an art sales shop as usual.  Some nice stuff in there, but nothing within our budget.  In any case, we have an attic full of paintings and prints, and very little remaining wall space.  

I joined a u3a art group for a few sessions, but it didn’t suit me: I need lots of space, and it just wasn’t available where we met.  It was well suited to disciplined watercolour painters, and I’m neither of the above.  I’ve banged out a pot-boiler in acrylics for the Christmas card, but little else.  

2025

As I mentioned at the top, HMG has got off to a disappointingly clumsy start.  Clearly, it was handed a poisoned chalice, but it didn’t help that, for electoral reasons, it had ruled out particular varieties of tax increase.  At least the batshit crazy Rwanda scheme was promptly dropped and the grisly Bibby Stockholm cleared out, but there are few signs of an approach that goes to the many roots of the small boat immigration problem and the hopeless asylum application ‘system’.  Given the success of the vast majority of asylum applications, it is scandalous that so many cases are outstanding, and that we can’t get this vast pool of labour and talent into productive work and decent homes.  

As for the Land of the Free, it was hardly surprising that the Orange One was re-elected, given that Biden was dissuaded from standing at far too late a stage.  Well, there’s nothing we lesser mortals can do about it, so we’ll just have to wait and see.  We hope that 2025 will be as kind to you as the political surroundings will allow.

Martyn & David

Mr Smith vs The Post Office

The other day I summoned up the courage to watch the ITV dramatisation of the Post Office Horizon scandal.  In the eleven months since its first screening I haven’t heard any suggestion that the drama was significantly inaccurate - I guess ITV’s lawyers will have done their due diligence.  

On one level, it was a superb piece of writing and direction, brilliantly acted: I won’t single out individual actors because they were all brilliant.  It’s a damn’ shame that despite Private Eye’s efforts over the years, it took a TV drama to lift the lid of this egregious can of worms, however, and Post Office management and HMG have blood on their hands such as would the multitudinous seas incarnadine.  The quotation invites comparison of Lady Macbeth and Paula Vennells, and I’ll leave it to others to draw the exact parallels, of which I suspect there are many.  I’ll allow myself one, though: at the most charitable interpretation, Vennells sleepwalked her way to the ruin of hundreds of lives and, oh, by the way, her reputation and that of the Post Office.

I’m struggling to get the story out of my mind.  Perhaps I shouldn’t.  At the time of the action, I was no longer an employee of the Post Office, but I remember the institutional hubris that pervades the script.  A frequently articulated mantra was that ‘the Post Office is a good employer’.  Then as during the scandal, there seemed to be no sense among senior management that the Post Office could do any wrong, but rather that the public should be grateful for its mediocre service.  The portrayal of the investigators and auditors seemed pretty accurate to me.  Some might say that the ID (Investigation Department) were always a bunch of thugs, and I’ve heard it said that it had a spectacular library of confiscated pornography.

By way of therapy, I did a spot of gardening yesterday, doing a pre-winter trim of some of the roses, and planting up some of the tubs out on the steps.  The hanging baskets are down now, and I have a few geranium and fuchsia cuttings in the sitooterie.  The cuttings I took of the New Guinea busy lizzies are starting to root well in water on the kitchen window ledge, so I’ll get them potted up in a week or so.  Storm Bert brought down a couple of sections of the fence and gave another few a distinct list to port, so we have our old friends from the fencing company coming round in a fortnight’s time to estimate.  Forget Christmas presents.

Winter - updated

Though we haven’t yet had the heavy snow that is affecting much of the country, it’s perishing cold.  We’re neither of us starting the winter in the best of shape: Martyn has been fighting a chest infection for a while now, and is on a second course of antibiotics.  It’s probably they that are making him feel so rotten: after a poor night, he went back to bed after breakfast.  I just have a heavy cold, so am merely wallowing in self-pity, as is only right and proper for a bloke with a cold.

On the positive side, having yesterday had to do some shopping, I succeeded in ‘preconditioning’ the car, which was covered in frost first thing, so it was defrosted and warm when I went out.  The process, launched from my iPhone without the need to brave the cold outdoors, takes a quarter of an hour, and uses about ten miles’ worth of range.  Of course, none of the fumes and noise that the same job generates in a combustion car.  It’ll take me years to learn all the car’s tricks, so I’m glad I’ve discovered this one early.

Thinking of the seasons, I recall a German verse, from a souvenir plate, I think:

Nutz die Frühling deines Lebens; Leb’ den Sommer nichts vergebens; Denn gar bald stehst du im Herbste, Und wann der Winter kommt, dann stirbst du.

Loosely translated: enjoy spring, make the most of summer: it won’t be long till autumn, and when winter comes, you die.  It occurred to me, while I was cooking just now, that I spent an enjoyable evening once in Brussels with my old friend Kjell Johnsen, preparing a ratatouille together.  Well, on looking at Facebook, I see that Kjell is no longer with us. Sad: he was a kind, undemanding friend.

Carpe idem, innit?

What passes for excitement hereabouts

We had a pleasant Sunday lunch and afternoon with Sandra: Martyn had found a lamb casserole recipe which looked worth a try, so we got some local neck fillet from our usual butcher.  It’s nice in these days of plastic-wrapped everything to see the butcher return from the back shop with part of a carcass and carve out a neck fillet.  Lamb from Penshurst, less than five miles from here.  Three fillets came to just over a kilo.  Trimmed and browned, then veggies sweated, spices and home made passata added and a long slow cook - and we had a good meal for two left over after we’d served three decent portions.  Pudding used up a lot of this year’s apple crop, so two ingredients from the garden, which is always a comfort.  (I’ll pass rapidly over the fact that the blackberries in the crumble came from Guatemala.)  We had some houmous and tapenade for starters, and although we didn’t grow the chickpeas and olives ourselves, we can at least take the credit for their transformation.

As we sat and digested with a cup of tea, we could hear pneumatic drills going nearby.  Martyn had noticed some neighbours stopping outside Mary and Charles’s, then going and ringing the bell.  They had presumably spotted a water leak, so as it turned out the water company’s contractors beavered away for hours into the night, the water pressure dwindling away meanwhile.  I’d calls during the evening from two elderly neighbours seeking reassurance that it wasn’t just they whose water supply had dried up, so I was able to reassure them on that point, and advise them to fill their kettles from the tap in the cloakroom rather than the mains tap in the kitchen.  Before bedtime the water came on again, and it didn’t take long before it was running clear again.

This morning Charles and a friend were standing contemplating the huge hole outside N°4, so I accused the former of getting bored and deciding to drill for oil.  Remains to be seen what happens next: I guess they’ll have done a lash-up pending a definitive repair.

Modest amounts of gardening: we’ve taken down the hanging baskets, since they were starting to look tired.  They’re in the mini greenhouse pro tem while I summon the energy to replant them.  There’s still a bit of colour in the garden, though I have started to haul out the verbena bonariensis in the hope that it hasn’t seeded too much already.  The little beech is turning into that wonderful palette of colours that comes each autumn, and the cornus are showing the coloured stems that will bring much of our winter colours.  When I was planting one of the Midwinter Fire cornus last week, I could see plenty of bulbs coming back to life.  We just have to get through the dark months now.

First service

A year or so after surgery I’m now on a five-year surveillance programme.  I had a CT scan a few weeks ago, and a blood test to look for tumour markers.  Yesterday I had a colonoscopy, which was altogether less uncomfortable than previous essays in the medium: of course, I could lie on my back for this one, and the man with the long eye had less far to go.  None of the above revealed signs of recurrence, but I’m still on probation for another four years.  Cautious optimism in order.

We’ve hardly seen the sun this month: the anticyclonic gloom has set in good and proper: dreich, damp and chilly.  Still, there’s the odd bit of colour left in the garden, and Ben has (a) cleared out the bed under the garnet acer and red cornus, and (b) brought us a couple of midwinter fire cornus plants: we just need to find room for them.  I just hope the hellebores survive his radical treatment!  Pale pink penstemon cuttings rooted well, so we have passed on a few to Mary down the road: she admired the parent plant when we had our Macmillan coffee morning back in September.  [Proceeds now stand at £1422, by the way!] 

As for politics, we’re both pretty depressed.  It wouldn’t worry us too much if the mayhem could be confined to the Land of the Free, but if the orange one (a) hangs Ukraine out to dry and (b) emasculates NATO, the soi-disant successor to Peter the Great will be emboldened to chance his arm in the Baltic States, Poland, Moldova and goodness knows where else.  Once again, one is grateful to be ancient and childless.

Eighteen years on

Having had to dip out of Martyn’s birthday meal, we rebooked for today’s wedding anniversary at the same venue, which we know by reputation only.  Well, our first visit was a success.  Excellent food, friendly service and a pleasant environment with muzak that didn’t impinge on conversation.  Sankey’s Seafood Kitchen and Bar.  Two firsts for me: Korean crisp cauliflower starter, and John Dory main course.  Martyn had a classic prawn cocktail followed by halibut.  The John Dory was delicious, but a shade labour-intensive. I’ll have a better idea of how to tackle the bones next time.

Young Mr Sankey was visible in the restaurant, which is always a good sign.  I was tempted to collar him, since he’s a one of our three councillors, and I have a bone to pick with said body.  But since I hadn’t taxed Alex, the other local councillor who served me when I collected my happy pills from the pharmacy earlier, I thought it would be unfair to tackle him - in any case, today’s agenda is a happy one, so no need to sour the atmosphere.  

Eighteen years since the very wet day when we registered our civil partnership.  Since we’d been an item for over five years by then, we tend to remember 28 April 2001, the day we met.  But a good excuse for a celebratory meal nevertheless.

Busy coupla weeks

Flu and Covid jabs, meals with friends and family: that sort of stuff.  Of the jabs, Martyn was quite poorly for a week or so after the Covid one.  I felt a touch out of sorts, and the arm was sore for a few days, but nothing worse.  Surprising how many people we know have had bad reactions to the vaccine.  Better than the disease, though.

We had a most enjoyable reunion of our old art group last week at the home of one of its members.  Miss had instructed each of us to bring a plate of goodies (savoury in our case), so we did our usual smoked salmon palmiers and sausage rolls - we’re getting a bit typecast, but who cares?  We ring the changes with the palmiers, and find that red pesto and sun-dried tomatoes do well, specially with a sprinkle of grated Parmesan.  

Donations continue to trickle in following our Macmillan coffee morning.  The total now stands at £1382, which sets us a bit of a challenge for next time!

Our u3a Four Seasons Birding group met last Thursday at the RSPB reserve at Dungeness.  Most enjoyable visit, thanks to the organisers and the excellent guide.  I am at best a casual birdwatcher, so the commentary from the guide was particularly useful.  Lots of birds I’d never seen before: marsh harriers, bearded tits and golden plovers to name but a few.  Hosts of lapwings, myriad ducks of numerous persuasions, goldfinches, snipes and so many more.  One or two of the group spotted a kingfisher, and our expert birders were excited by the sighting of a black-necked grebe.  I admit that I found the walk a bit tiring: it takes time to rebuild the strength, I suppose.  

Shame that Martyn was still off form on his big birthday: we decided to cancel the planned lunch out.  Adding insult to injury, a misunderstanding about venue meant that our planned meal with friends on Sunday didn’t happen.  Oh well, all the more reason to re-plan the celebrations when the stars align better.

Too old for all this

Last time I charged the Renault, it was enough just to plug it in and click on the boost button on the app.  Yesterday that worked for a minute, then dropped out.  Charger rebooted, it kicked in again, and soon dropped out.  Time after time.  We plugged in the Fiat for an overnight programmed charge, and that seems to have worked.  I’m trying that tonight on the Renault, so we’ll see tomorrow if it works.  One tries hard to be umweltfreundlich, but the reliance on software - or rather, on my ability to use it - makes the whole thing rather difficult.  

Can anyone tell me why we can’t just plug the damn’ thing and throw a switch?

Not a bad result

We last did a Macmillan coffee morning five years ago, when I’d no inkling that I’d become a consumer rather than just a supporter of their services.  That time we raised about £450 if memory serves me well, so now that I’ve encountered their services in person, it seemed right to double the target.  So we catered pretty lavishly and cast the net wide, and had something like 30 guests here on Saturday.  They seemed to have enjoyed the party, although as before the savoury stuff went better than the sweet.  We have distributed some of the leftovers to neighbours who couldn’t come, but there are still a few scones and buns, which is not good news when one is some way from one’s goal weight.

As usual, the smoked salmon palmiers were well received, and the sausage rolls disappeared like snow off a dyke.  We had some quiche and tarte aux poireaux left over, so that sorted lunch next day.  But I seem to have lost my touch with short crust pastry: I had to resort to buying a couple of rolls from Fortnums.  There are so many recipes for such dishes, each contradicting the last, so I took an executive decision: six eggs, a pot of double cream, a good splash of milk, salt, pepper and nutmeg.  We were pleased with the leek tart, which was broadly based on a Rick Stein recipe, so shall have another go at that.  I’ll leave the pastry to Martyn…

One of the guests was Martyn’s second cousin Susan, who lives in Washington State, and is currently visiting the land of her grandparents, staying for a few days with Martyn’s sister, Sandra.  Here are the four of us, enjoying each other’s company after the hordes had obediently left by the stated 13:00 deadline.  We took Susan for a little stroll along the Pantiles and Chapel Place before returning to Forges-l’Evêque for fish and chips - Sandra’s treat.  It was good to meet Susan: she is a friendly no-nonsense person with whom we share many values.

Well, the bottom line is that, at the time of writing we have raised four-thirds of our target.  Most was donated on line, but we have today banked a stunning amount raised on the day: the collecting box alone yielded more than we raised in total last time, and it is now winging its electronic way to Macmillan Cancer Support.  (The fact that we returned from our trip to the town with a new iPhone is pure coincidence: honest, Officer.)

Oh, and if you’d like to add to our takings, you can do so at https://www.justgiving.com/CM24036877 .

Busy, busy

The house was a hive of activity yesterday as the decorators started work on the kitchen and cloakroom.  They seem to be doing a very thorough job, and ought to finish today.  The last time the kitchen was painted we did it ourselves, but in recent years we’ve done less decorating.  We did partly re-paper the hall after the garage conversion, but have been contracting out the more complex stuff.

I’ve told the decorators they’ll have to be out tonight, since the kitchen is going to be busy: we are hosting a Macmillan coffee morning on Saturday, so have a lot of baking in prospect.  The sausage rolls and palmiers are in the freezer, ready to be thawed, sliced and baked, and we’re planning to make some quiches and sweet stuff.  Should be fun: so far over 20 say they’re coming, and I expect there’ll be a few more.  Donations so far are startlingly generous: they’re already a whisker over what we raised five years ago when we last hosted one.  Just as well: we’ve set an ambitious target.

Sad news from Canada yesterday: my second cousin Peter decided to have an end put to his suffering last weekend - not a decision available to us this country, and I’ll keep my own counsel on the issue.  A stroke had left him badly paralysed, half blind and wheelchair bound, so one can understand his decision.  I hadn’t met him, but have met his sister, his widow and two of his brothers either in Canada or when they have been in London, and always enjoyed their company.

Tempus fugit, except….

…when your clocks are misbehaving.  Aunty Jessie’s clock somehow lost the pin anchoring the hands to the hub some time ago, so I took it along to the local repair café, where clock-fettler Peter managed to sort it by scrounging a pin from the sewing table next door, his usual paper clip job being too coarse.  All was well for a while, but a month or so ago it wouldn’t stay running for more than a few minutes.  Back to Peter a week past Saturday when the repair café was in town again.  He administered a squirt with some solvent which has got it going.  I mentioned that Martyn’s grandmother’s clock had taken to striking 4 at 13:00 and 01:00.  ‘Ah, I know what that’ll be, said Peter: bring it in!’.  In we brought it, and Peter did the necessary, so it dutifully bonged once at 1 o’clock.  Unfortunately, it then stopped…. Well, Martyn administered some WD40, and it’s now going and bonging comme il faut.  Said WD40 being on the gummy side, I dare say we’ll be back ere long for a squirt of Peter’s magic solvent.

The repair café is a likeable institution: volunteers come along and do their stuff for a donation to their charity, and they’ll sell you tea and cakes while you wait.  Our neighbour Rosemary was officer i/c kettle, so we got to have a nice chat with her while we waited.  A former bench colleague’s husband does the electrical safety testing of stuff brought in for repair, so we were among friends.  A good experience, helping to restore one’s faith in one’s neighbours.

In our rented flat in Bern, there were clocks in the kitchen and living room, and neither was working.  The kitchen one just needed a new battery, but the problem with the living room was that the hands were clashing (and probably that it too wanted a new battery).  New batteries administered, hands unclashed, we left them in working order.  What with that and my dead-heading of the pink rose outside the living room window, I think we’ve compensated the landlords for having broken one of their wine glasses.

Trains great and small

To Fribourg on Wednesday to visit the Chemins de Fer de Kaeserberg, a rather impressive HO-gauge layout.  I’d booked to visit at 14:00, and carefully researched the bus route and timing to get there from the station.  Not carefully enough: I led us to the right bus - in the wrong direction.  When we arrived at the end of the line, the nice lady bus driver said ‘no, you’re in the right place, I just have to do the circuit’.  We got to the model railway place a few minutes after our due time, but we only missed the introductory video.  Miniaturwunderland it isn’t, but it’s a far more serious representation of railways and traffic in Switzerland.  It has the odd spark of humour, like a chap trying to clamber back on to his windsurfer.  Also on the water there’s a fine HO-scale model of the paddle steamer Gallia, on which we’d sailed a day or so earlier.

Back in town, we were treated to a guided tour of parts of the old town by Josy Pitteloud, a former senior PTT strategy manager with whom I was last in touch over 25 years ago, though more recently we have maintained contact on social media.  I bought one of his pen and wash paintings back in the 90s: he has a loose, economical style that hints at rather than depicts his subject, and gave us each a couple of vignettes to take home: we shall frame them.  He later sent us some images of an exhibition he is putting on in a few months’ time: here’s one:

We’d been lucky with the weather: the forecast was for rain all day, but it didn’t kick in till much later, so we had our city tour in bright or sunny weather.  Josy gave us an outline of the history of the city before our tour, then took us for aperitifs at a bar with a terrace overlooking the old town.   

Perhaps when I’m a bit stronger we’ll come back and do the full tour Josy had planned!  As it was, we got a good idea of the layout and history of the city, which is older than its neighbour, Bern.  Nevertheless, step count: 7064.

Of the larger trains, we’ve done a few journeys on the deservedly much-maligned Twindexx trains.  They’re about OK if you’re sitting in the middle of the lower deck but if, like us, you could only find seats at the end of the top deck, you’d find the ride very rough and the noise unacceptable.  For our last train ride today (not counting the Zürich airport shuttle) we were on a rather older double-deck loco-hauled coach, and it was far preferable.  Another problem with the Twindexx sets - which are typically used on services joining Geneva and Zürich airports - is inadequate luggage space.  Some great decisions by the SBB powers that be.

Today’s travel was rather trying, even though everything connected as it should.  We were on the road for over eight hours in eight different forms of transport, schlepping our bags throughout.  Step count: 6318.  I think we’re due a few days off!

What is ‘planning’?

We continue our chaotic Helvetic ramble.  Yesterday, having no engagements until evening, we had a leisurely breakfast, then I suggested we go to Luzern for lunch.  Nice straightforward ride down there, and we did the obligatory walk across the Kapellbrücke, which this year is resplendent in pink, white and mauve begonias.

It then occurred to me that we could get the boat down to Vitznau and have lunch there, and so we boarded the paddle steamer Gallia.  It was too hot for me out in the sun, so we went into the café for a drink, and finished up spending a couple of hours there over a decent lunch.  Martyn had battered fillets of perch (enough to feed a battalion, with commensurate chip accompaniment).  I went for Nidwaldner Hacktäschtli with a mixed salad.  Both delicious, but I think large salads are off the agenda henceforth.  My new plumbing can’t deal with it without risk (narrowly avoided this time).

We ultimately stayed on the boat as far as Flüelen, and came home via Zürich, changing at Zug.  Two trams, a boat and four trains.  Par for the course.

Pam hosted an apéritif dînatoire for us and old friends Heidi and Chandroo.  I first met Chandroo in Bern fifty years ago, and we’ve been in touch off and on ever since.  At 86, he’s not without health issues, but frequently plays golf with his grandsons, and looks as fit as the proverbial butcher's dog.

Daily step count: 6309.

Today, again unplanned, we decided to go down to Interlaken.  Martyn fancied the Harderbahn funicular, but when we got there, it was clear from the length of the queue that we’d have at least an hour’s wait to get on.  We abandoned that, and had a decent lunch at The Möwi on the main drag, opposite the park where paragliders land.  All good fun.  Since we’re taking Pam out to supper tonight, we headed home after lunch, opting for the regional line to our nearest station, hence avoiding the heat and crush of the main station.  Each change was quick and easy, so I think it was a good decision.

Step count today so far: 6145.

Dinner with Pam at a restaurant where I used to entertain, the Frohegg.  Now under Portuguese ownership, and very welcoming: good portions, but a bit on the pricey side.  It started raining soon after we sat down outside, and continued until we got back to the flat.  Not like the previous night’s storms, so we were wet but not drenched.  The re-routing of our first tram didn’t help: when we realised what had happened, we’d a bit of a walk back through the roadworks to pick up the familiar tram back to our digs.

Final step count for the day: 9376.

Great company, weather a bit too hot.

Pam has been looking after us like royalty, and hosted us and two other old friends to dinner yesterday.  Lovely evening, superb meal.

We’ve been a little less ambitious with our itineraries this time, but are nevertheless beating my daily 3000 steps target every time, even on Friday when we spent a lot of time snoozing and sitting on the terrace.  On Saturday we took the boat from Biel towards Solothurn along the Aare.  Pleasant enough, but when we went out on the top deck in search of fresh air and shade, we got a bit pissed off with being told where we could stand or place chairs.  We therefore paid off at Grenchen, caught a bus into town, and took the train to Solothurn.  Handsome Baroque architecture, which we were a bit too hot and sticky to appreciate fully.  On the way back to the station we were in time to watch a heat of the dragon boat competition on the Aare: all good exuberant fun.  Though Switzerland is often accused of being austere and strait-laced, its zany episodes never cease to delight me.  I forget which year it was: probably around 1997, when the streets of Zürich were populated with brightly painted life-size plastic cows.

Step count: 8053.

Today we did another of our mad itineraries that are possible only thanks to the well-interconnected public transport system.  We took a tram, a train and a bus to the Bern airport at Belp-Moos, having arranged to meet an aviation YouTuber, Matthias Hänni, with whom I’ve conversed at intervals on line.  What a delightful fellow he is!  Friendly, knowledgable and with an interesting health story.  Having suffered from cystic fibrosis, he took part in a ten-year research programme, and is now evidently asymptomatic.  He recently published a piece he’d written for a learned journal on the subject, and when I tabled it for my German conversation group, we all found his story really inspiring.  Having now met him he seems in rude health.  Look up Matt’s Aviation Channel.

After a sandwich lunch, he drove us to Münsingen, where we joined a train over the old Lötschberg line to Brig, whence we’d planned to return via the new Lötschberg base tunnel.  On a whim, I suggested that we return via Lausanne, so we had a real orgy of scenery, along the glaciated Rhône valley and the lake shore.  After Lausanne the climb up through the vineyards is always beautiful.  After that, however, the weather took a turn for the worse, and although we got home dry, we’re having some pretty lively thundery showers this evening.  A relief, really, since we’ve been finding the hot sticky weather pretty tiring.

Step count: 5069.

On our travels again

As I write, we’re sitting in the shade on the terrace of a rented flat in Bern.  We travelled yesterday, flying from London City to Zürich.  That was the easy bit, well, more or less.  Our friend Richard gamely agreed to take us to Tonbridge station, where we sat in the sun until our off-peak train tickets came to life.  London Bridge to Canning Town on the incredibly noisy Jubilee line, then on to the airport on the Toytown railway.  This train was filthy, threadbare and shabby, but it got us there in bags of time.  As the flight was full, they put out a call for people willing to put their bags in the hold, in exchange for priority boarding, to which we gladly agreed.  Glad we did, since it was a long, long trek to baggage reclaim.  It then took us a full half hour to get through passport control - while the EU, EEA and Switzerland desks were practically empty.  Another Brexit benefit.  But at least we didn’t have to hang around at the baggage carousel.

We flew in one of BA’s excellent Embraers.  They aren’t exactly roomy, but I’d plenty of legroom, even with my little back pack under the seat.  The flight would have been OK had it not been for a couple of screaming sprogs - we get them every time - and a rather garrulous Sikh party who were getting well stuck into the free Heineken.  Travelling in cattle class, we were pleasantly surprised to get a packet of crisps and a glass of wine: our last British Airways trip, to the Algarve in Club Europe, included some catering, which was close to inedible. 

The Swiss end of the journey was pleasant and comfortable: our train ran non-stop from Zürich Hauptbahnhof to Bern, where we shopped for essentials at the station and then got the rather busy tram out to the flat.  The flat is adequate: a bedroom with a big double and an office with a reasonably comfortable sofa bed.  The living room is spacious but spartan: it has a dining table for eight, and an L-shaped sofa which is seriously uncomfortable.

It was lovely to see Pam again: we last saw her two years ago when we had lunch with her, Geoff, Lesley and Carlo: we were staying in Bellinzona at the time, so it was quite a day trip.  Geoff, alas, is no longer with us: though physically as fit as a butcher’s dog that day, he was clearly losing the place.  Very sad.  Just before he was due to go into residential care, his physical health took a turn for the worse, and he spent his last few days in hospital.  

Pam is coping well, and is travelling to Lisbon next week.  She had prepared a delicious supper for us, and I’m just sorry I wasn’t better company.  I was dog tired and very uncomfortable in the 30° heat, and later had trouble getting to sleep.  Our neighbours, perhaps used to our flat standing empty for periods, were making no effort to keep their voices down.  About 11:30 I banged on the wall, whereupon immediate silence.  That’s Berne for you.

Today we went into town to buy stuff for lunch, but came straight back to the flat for lunch and a rest.  As I write, Martyn has retired for a siesta, and I’ll be going back indoors when the sun comes round.  I too am content to treat today as a recovery day.  I have given myself a daily step count target of 3000, and have been achieving that without much difficulty.  Yesterday I did closer to 7000, so I guess I’m entitled to feel every so slightly cream-crackered.

We’ll maybe get a bit more ambitious tomorrow.  Pam recommends a visit to Solothurn, which I know only from passing through on the train on the way to Biel/Bienne.  I read that the river cruise from Biel to Solothurn is very pretty, so we’ll maybe do that.  More helveticana anon.

The diminishing project list

We have finally got round to a job we’ve been meaning to have done for some years.  The door from the dining room to the kitchen matched the double doors between the sitting and dining rooms.  Each had 18 panes of very 1960s Flemish tulip pattern glass, hence were a brute to paint and keep clean.  Well, the double doors came off years ago: we only ever closed them when Martyn was still working, when I turned off the heating in the bigger room during the day.  We ultimately gave them to the builders who converted the study.  The door from the kitchen to the hall was of the fake panel variety that predominate in the house, and kept the hall rather dark.  Both doors have now been replaced with matching doors, each with a single large glazed panel, installed well at very reasonable cost by our local chippy.  The old doors were too big to go in the car, so I put them on Freecycle and someone took them away, saving us the £60-odd had we got the council to take them.

We next move to the decorating agenda.  Our decorating days are in the past, so we sent a list off to an even more local painter.  He has seen to the little remaining outside woodwork, and will next do the kitchen and cloakroom.  He was somewhat frustrated today when the wind got up and scattered dust and silver birch seed all over the newly painted garage door.  He has pushed off to his timeshare in Gran Canaria: I get to tackle the door tomorrow with a cloth and soapy water - and limited optimism.

I’d mentioned that we’ve started on the tomatoes.  Yesterday I harvested blueberries and cultivated/wild strawberries.  Most of the latter were nibbled away in no time: the blueberries are now in muffins, and, like the project list, rapidly dismissing in number.

Here comes the sun

There’s nothing quite like a cancer diagnosis to concentrate the mind on both the short and medium terms.  We have taken a cruise to the Fjords, and it was a delight - something I’ve wanted to do for years.  Who knows how long one has left, after all?  Much as we love our friends and family, and commit to various charities, we’re rather inclined to get the good of our savings for ourselves - and the broader environment - while we’re alive.  Par conséquent, we have turned in both diesel cars for electric ones, and had a big solar array installed on the roof.

We got the little Fiat in April, and love its lively character.  It has five doors, but is pretty tight in the back.  We’ve therefore turned in the Ateca, an excellent car, and a super second-hand buy for someone.  But once you’ve driven an electric car, it seems pretty pedestrian.  So it’s back to Renault after 27 years.  The Scenic is fractionally bigger than the Ateca, so will only just fit in the garage.  The Fiat, registered GK, is a proper little go-kart.  The Scenic is also lively and agile, if clearly bigger and a tad heavier, but nicely finished, and with lots of nice bells and whistles, like a glass roof that can be dimmed without a cloth blind.  I’m slowly coming to grips with all the fancy tricks, and am glad to confirm that both meet my grandfather’s criterion for a car: it has four wheels and it goes.

We have had a sociable week so far: Sandra was here on Sunday for lunch: bruschette with the first crop of our tomatoes, a chicken Caesar salad and a fruit salad.  I hosted the German conversation group on Tuesday morning, and I think it went well.  Later in the day we had friends round for tea and Martyn’s delicious scones.  

The garden is doing well.  The spuds are all out now, and we’ve planted out all the tomato seedlings.  We’ve started saving seeds from annuals with a view to flogging them at a pound a pinch when we host a Macmillan coffee morning next month.

All go hereabouts

For a few days at least.  We decided a while back to sign up for the bulk buying scheme for solar panels.  So Tuesday of last week we had scaffolders on the premises, getting the place ready for installation two days later.  I got much practice in making coffee for the workmen.

As one can imagine, the process was pretty noisy: impact wrenches for the dozens of scaffolding brackets,  hammer drills for making the necessary holes in the house and angle grinders for cutting the mounting rails to size.  By the end of the installation day (panels fitted by one roofer, to my astonishment, while the sparky saw to the inverter etc), the fifteen panels were pumping out more than 6kW.  The inverter, battery etc fit very neatly in the garage, and are slim enough that we don’t need to part with the ‘spare’ freezer.  The inverter has a display that tells you what’s happening - it’s better than the telly!

The end result is pretty inoffensive: we have fifteen panels rather than the planned sixteen - but at least that took a fraction off the final bill.

Oddly enough, the same company installed solar panels a few days earlier on our neighbour’s house, and she’s as pleased as we are. For some reason, though the houses are very similar, her installation comprises five fewer panels.  Curious.

The scaffolding came down on Tuesday of this week, so it was more crashing and banging, a positive rain of scaffolding brackets landing with surprising accuracy in big plastic buckets on the terrace.  No damage to plant life, though there are a couple of patches on the grass where they’d laid planks to anchor the scaffolding braces.  Mind you, as I took the chaps their coffee, I issued the threat ‘damage my tomatoes and I kill you!’.  Glad to report that both the tomatoes and the scaffolders survived.  Cheerful souls: they were chatting and guffawing all the time they were here.  In fact, all six workmen were friendly and polite, and appreciative of coffees and cold drinks.

The tomatoes, indeed, are starting to ripen, and since many of the plants are from cuttings, we ought to have a decent succession of cropping.  We have also started harvesting potatoes from the raised bed at the kitchen door - the alexandras I grew from a supermarket bag of spuds were rather sparse croppers, but the good old charlottes are producing like mad - and as delicious as ever.  It’s the first time we’ve grown them in the raised bed rather than in canvas bags, and the results are good.  We’ve also started harvesting apples, and appear to have a good crop there too.

Elsewhere in the garden it’s the usual mix of dead-heading, grass cutting and weeding, and the garden waste bin is usually chocka each fortnight.  Today I’ve trimmed a rather vigorous golden lonicera, and stopped the little rosemary plants to encourage them to bush.  We’re hoping they will replace our devastated box hedge.  Considering how terrible the soil is, I’m impressed by how well they’re doing.  But then, rosemary grows pretty well in the dry, arid garrigue.

Next job is to establish how much we earn for the juice we export.  Enquiry made of EDF: I don’t expect to get rich, given that their main shareholder has the Olympics to pay for.

Some reassurance

The UK electorate, despite voting around the same number for Labour as in the 2019 collapse, has returned a Labour government, largely because of its appetite to thrash the tories for their dreadful record.  Tactical voting dislodged a lot of tories: ours baled out ahead of the election, and the Lib Dems took the seat (with our modest tactical help).  Much has to do with the vote for the so-called reform UK party, which a former Tory PM characterised as closet fascists, fruitcakes and loonies.  Said party garnered over four million votes, which suggests that the UK is tending somewhat towards the populist trend in the neighbouring Continent.  Still, it looks like the sophisticated French electorate, having put a first round across the bows of Le Pen’s lot, has prevailed in the second round.  Remains to be seen how the new Parliament can be made to work.  Both in France and at home.  Though somewhat reassured, I remain glad I’m old.

…and back again

Monday 24 June

Pleasant sail out of Southampton, following the Queen Mary 2 (which I’d never seen before) as she left for New York.

Though we had requested a table for two, we found ourselves being led to an oval six-seater.  Well, we thought, we usually find ourselves chatting with the neighbours, so provided the company is congenial, conversation should be easier.  The good thing is that the table is right by a window, looking out over the wake.  The meal was fine: well prepared and not too huge.

Not a bad night: the beds are very comfortable and the duvets and pillows lofty and welcoming.  Likewise, the dressing gowns are new and very fleecy.  When I looked out first thing, the sea was glassy smooth, and after some twenty hours on board, I’ve rarely been aware of the fact that we’re on the water.  It is a big tub, of course, and the North Sea is uncommonly smooth.  It’s surprising to see how many gas/oil rigs there still are out here.

So far, apart from the cabin, we’ve sampled the Britannia restaurant, the buffet, the Golden Lion pub and the Commodore Club.  The buffet was busy at breakfast time, but we managed to get seats at the window.  We were highly restrained this first morning, settling each for a glass of OJ, two slices of toast and a couple of cups of tea.  We didn’t sample the pub offerings, staying only for the first quiz of the day.  From there we popped into the theatre to catch the tail end of the port presentation of Bergen and Haugesund.  Huge theatre, and less ornate than on the Vista Class.

We have sampled the Commodore Club, the spacious bar above the bridge looking forward: always our venue of choice on these ships.  Nice place to sit with a book or to write the diary, and this ship has flat deep windows, unlike the sloping ones of the QE and QV, so it’s easier to see out.  

It was calm and mild, so we sat on the balcony watching the sun sink slowly below the horizon.  

Wednesday 26 June 

Pleasant day in Bergen yesterday.  We opted for a ride round the city on the top deck of a tour bus.  Charming town centre, with a lot of preserved wooden buildings.  Rather dull and grey as we sailed in, the big tub threading her way through myriad small, arid looking islands.  As one approaches Bergen from the sea, the shore and islands get more and more populated and prosperous looking, somewhat reminiscent of the archipelago off Stockholm.  

We saw a bit of sunshine later in the day in Bergen, and count ourselves lucky: evidently it rains over 200 days a year there.  As we left, some German joker a couple of cabins along was throwing breadcrumbs to the gulls, which were catching them in mid-air with unerring accuracy, and almost hitting us as they swooped in.  We left in brilliant sunshine, but it wasn’t long before the mist came down, and when we returned to our cabin the foghorn was sounding.

When I woke this morning (around 04:00) I could see land through the chink we’d left in the curtains.  It was reasonably mild, so I stood outside for a while to take in the fantastic views of the steep hillside, waterfalls and even a bit of snow on the top of the mountains.  It was drizzling as we sailed up the fjord, but there was brilliant sunshine by breakfast time.  The cloud comes and goes, as one expects at a latitude just north of that of the Faroe Islands. 

We went out on deck for a while after breakfast to soak in the wonderful views.  Flåm is at the head of an inlet, surrounded by steep mountainsides and numerous waterfalls.  It is at the foot of a railway branch line that connects to the Bergen-Oslo line at Myrdal.  The line is evidently spectacular - we have watched YouTube videos thereof - but we were too late to book a ride through Cunard, and the chances of buying tickets are slim when there’s a 3000 pax cruise ship in town and a smaller one, Silver Dawn, bringing in more passengers by tender.  Our plan is to take the bus ride up to the Stegastein viewpoint.  More anon.

As we thought, the train was sold out for the day, so we took a bus ride to the Stegastein viewpoint, and were not disappointed.  Fabulous views up and down the Aurlandsfjord and across to the snow on the mountains.

After lunch and a rest we went and did the quiz with a pleasant couple originally from Glasgow, but living for many years in suburban Hertfordshire.  We won.  Out on deck a little later, Martyn spotted a chap in the pool whom he recognised as Luke, one the YouTube Cruise Monkeys: his partner Gavin was nearby, taking photographs.  We chatted for a while and compared notes about the Queen Anne.  Like most people we have talked to, they feel that she lacks some of the attractiveness of the QE and QV, but welcome the proper shower enclosure!

Thursday 27 June

I was up and about early again, and took a few photos as we wove our way up the Nordfjord.  The early morning light made for some spectacular views.  Olden is a tiny community of some 600 souls, so hasn’t a whole lot to offer.  But it has a tourist office which sold us tickets for the 100-meter cable car ride up the Hoven.  There’s an open top bus service, but it leaves you with a long walk to get a view of the glacier, so that wasn’t an option.

Expensive like everything in Norway, but it offers amazing views along the Nordfjord, down to Olden and up to the Briksdal glacier.  A lot of intrepid hikers were setting out from the top cable car station.  (I’m a little sad that my hiking days are over.)

We’d a lazy rest of day, with a couple of quizzes (we won) a nice lunch in the Britannia and an afternoon nap.  Fine views again as we sailed down the fjord.  Not really a surprise, but I’m finding I enjoy the scenic cruising every bit as much as the places we visit.

Friday 28 June

We half-heard an announcement last night that a poor weather forecast ruled out the planned call at Haugesund.  Instead we have had a much preferable cruise along a fraction of the huge Hardangerfjord, which offers scenery every bit as fine as that we’ve seen over the last few days.  The ship sailed up a steep-sided arm of the fjord and did a sort of pirouette at the top so that everyone could get views of the glacier.  A little further down is the Furebergfossen, an impressive waterfall that delivers the glacier meltwater to the fjord.  So it’s an ill wind indeed. 

As predicted, the weather took a nosedive later in the day, so we had a fairly sporting sail out of the fjord.  Nothing spectacular, since the ship is enormous.

So two full sea days and three nights after leaving Olden.  On our second day, we went to an interview with Robin Cousins, Olympic gold medalist figure skater, actor/singer and general all-round good egg.  On our last night at sea, we came through the Straits of Dover at sunset.

Disembarkation was perhaps the most organised of the cruises we’ve done, with passengers organised in numbered and colour coded groups.  We were off the ship ten minutes earlier than schedule, and on the road twenty minutes later.  The journey home is never straightforward.  After our rotten experience last Sunday on the M25, we opted to go along the coast past Chichester and then pick up a route Martyn used to use.  In the intervening years, it has become much busier, and an accident just ahead of us led us to knit a new route, with limited help from Dotty.  So in the end it took us a full three hours.

The garden is in fine fettle despite the high temperatures while we were away, thanks to watering by Celia and Andy.  Two of the tomatoes are setting fruit, so I’ve started feeding them.  It seemed appropriate to plant a rose called Ingrid Bergman to remind us of our late neighbour Rowena: both succumbed to breast cancer.  Its first flowers opened while we were away, and it’s a beauty.  As for gardening, I’ve limited myself today to watering, dead-heading and a limited amount of weeding.