And now for something completely different

We’re used enough to prime ministerial self contradiction, but this time he probably has his advisors to blame.  The official advice is still full of shoulds and oughts, the schools, pubs and restaurants remain open, and policy seems to rely on common sense and civic responsibility.  (Like we saw in the EU referendum, some might say, ironically or otherwise.)  Contrast with our old enemy outre-manche, which has closed everything that justifies less than life or death public access.  My friends in France may only leave the house once they have completed and signed a form certifying that they are doing so for one of five permitted reasons: work (and then only if it is certified impossible to telework), food shopping, medical attention, care of family members or exercise (NOT organised sport) of self and doggie close to home.  The consequent fines are hardly likely to fund the increased cost of health care, and I shudder to think of the consequences of thus diverting the flics from their proper job, but at least the signal is a strong one.

Here we are seeing our diary empty steadily of stuff involving Other People: art group and German conversation suspended, bird watching tour and the CAB quiz cancelled.  I usually try to do my Sainsburying when the shop opens, and attempted it this morning.  By the time the doors opened, there was a queue a hundred yards long, and what should have been a mere 20 minute ordeal took more than twice that.  Things are manifestly Not OK.

Fortunately, the weather is good for home-based activity: the laundry is up to date, dried on the line, the grass has had its first slippery cut (the mower started on the first tug of the starter) and I’ve been out in the sitooterie and garden, starting seeds and hacking dead wood out of shrubs.  So, provided we stay healthy, the garden may be the chief beneficiary.  The little magnolia stellata is in good flower, and the pink Susan variety is showing colour.  I’m keeping fingers crossed in the hope that seed saved last year will germinate, not only with a view to populating the garden, but to flogging more seed for charity in the autumn, if last year’s customers’ seeds also come through.  I suppose that’s the main benefit of gardening: it keeps one focused on the medium to long term

Interesting times

Hard to know whom to listen to these days as the lurgy continues its natural progress.  Governmental vacillation is to be expected (perhaps more so under current regimes) as too is stock market fluctuation.  It prompts me to wonder, and not for the first time, who in the world would design a system that runs the world’s economy on the basis of the whims and fancies of these self-serving punters?  Would you run your company on the basis of sentiment alone?  Cos that’s what seems to govern the economy.  I’m glad I’m old.

We’re almost enjoying watching the nation’s shopping behaviour.  Fortnums were rationing R-swipe to three packs per customer last weekend, and Waitrose and Sainsbury were cleaned out thereof.  As a friend remarks, all this stockpiling just adds a fire hazard to the risk of infection.

Add two almost entirely wasted days at the hobby this week, and you’ll understand why my already jaundiced Weltanschauung is just about at its darkest.  We were both a bit sniffly on Thursday, so cancelled the art gathering: although our symptoms don’t correspond to those of the current lurgy, we don’t want to compromise our fellow daubers’ immune systems.   Various other engagements have been cancelled, notably the CAB Quiz, which is a shame, since it’s an evening we always enjoy.  We are due to go on a a cruise in early May, but expect that too will be cancelled, and in any case, if they don’t, we will, knowing how we tend to pick up some bug or other on cold weather cruises.  Shame, since I’ve always wanted to see the fjords.  Another time, maybe, although a strong lobby is building in Norway opposing cruise ship visits to the fjords, and at least two of our planned ports of call aren’t letting cruise ships disembark passengers and crew for the time being.

But.  The magnolia stellata out the front is coming into flower, the iris sibirica has started into growth and many primulas continue to delight the eye.  I’m always glad to see the cowslips and primroses in the spring, and their cultivated cousins are doing extremely well.  I squelched up the garden the other day to hack back the hydrangea, and had a go at the new penstemons while I was in the area.  All are budding up nicely, as, of course, are the roses.  I see lots of flower buds on the spiraeas, but also quite a bit of die-back, so that will need attention.  The apple tree is budding well despite the mutilation I visited upon it a few weeks ago, so it’ll be interesting to see whether it continues in its biennial habit. We had a lot of fruit last year....   There are a lot of camellias in flower hereabouts, including ours (though we wish our landscapers had thought to get us a red one).

March. Phew.

The best that can be said for February is that it is mercifully short.  Often the month when we see most snow, this February was wet in diluvian measure, and windy in proportion.  We’ve had a few hail showers, but in general it has been unusually mild.  The grass has not really stopped growing this winter, but it is still far too wet to mow.  I squelched out this afternoon to do a spot of pruning and tidying up, and was rather nervous about losing my footing.

I now have the rota for my last few months at the hobby, and am grateful that I have only two more journeys to make to the county town.  I stand a fighting chance of getting home in daylight from both of them, which is a relief.  I’m starting to find a full day a bit tiring, and the drive home against oncoming headlights is not something I relish.  Even in good conditions last week, my outward journey took the best part of an hour and a half.  ‘Ad enuf of this.

Road conditions in general are going from dreadful to simply dire: where there aren’t roadworks, there ought to be: driving is a constant struggle to avoid the potholes.  We’d to drive into the outer London outskirts last Friday, and even the trunk roads are in an appalling state.

Still, the signs of spring are encouraging.  The camellia is in flower, and there are nice fat buds on the magnolias.  Lots of tulips are poking through the surface, and I think I see some fritillaries as well.  Although some of the early rhododendrons are flowering elsewhere in the neighbourhood, ours is not there yet.  Both plants have plenty of buds, and the hydrangeas are coming along nicely as well.  And the days are getting noticeably longer, thank goodness!

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! 

January woes

Just as my Cunard cold started to wane, Martyn was hit by a gut bug that is taking its time to clear up.    Hard to tell how he acquired it: the fact that I didn’t would rule out food poisoning.  Oh well, these things take their course, so we’ll need to be patient.  Perversely, the extra journeys up and down stairs will have done me good.

The main source of colour in the garden at the moment is the scattering of primulas.  Some have been in for years, and others, more recently planted, are catching up well.  The bulbs are beginning to poke through the surface, so it won’t be too long before we have a good display again.  But I am aching for the longer days.  I should be grateful that the grass doesn’t need cutting and that the watering is limited.  But by and large I’d rather hibernate.