Oh, My Days!

 Arrived within spitting distance of work today only to grind to a halt at a roundabout which was peppered with ‘Police Accident’ signs. I never know if these signs are saying that the police have caused an accident or are in an accident or are at an accident, and was none the wiser this morning as there were no police evident at the roundabout whatsoever.  Anyway, I sat at the roundabout in my little red Toyota, with two lorries and two cars ahead of me and three cars behind me. Didn’t sit there long before the queue began to move forward. Off we go, I thought. Not much of a hold up at all. We all headed towards the second exit, only to find that the outward bound lane was blocked by more ‘Police Accident’ signs (still no police in evidence, although they might have been holed up at the Muckdonald’s ‘restaurant’ (pah!) sited next to the roundabout). There were two chaps standing behind the signs, though, having just alighted from their Highways Maintenance vehicle, which was parked al

 Oh, our harvest cup runneth over this year especially with plums, tomatoes and blackberries. In another week or two we shall be inundated with cucumbers, too, which have taken their time revving up to deliver, to the point where I was thinking, ‘Well, that was a waste of a packet of seeds.’ But in the last two weeks they’ve gone curcubitaceae crazy, the crafty little green tinkers. The chilli peppers are turning red. They are also growing into comedy shapes, making them worthy of a blog post to themselves. And the grapes - well, providing it doesn’t snow in the next month, we could be in for a bumper harvest there, too. It’s all about the fruit this year. We’ve even got 9 pears, which is 5 more than last year!  His Lordship Malarkey and I, then, have spent a lot of the Bank Holiday weekend picking and freezing plums and blackberries. Plum picking has required his Lordship M to climb up our enormous safety ladder, as the plum trees now extend to over twenty feet high. I’m guessing twen

 Went to the library yesterday to stock up on novels. I haven’t been to the library in AGES, what with one thing and another. When we moved here, it took a while for me to steel myself to join the library, and I shall tell you why. It was because I couldn’t get over the notion that the books in the library may possibly have been read in people’s bathrooms on people’s toilets, and if there is one thing that the covid pandemic has taught me, it’s that other people’s hand washing habits leave much to be desired. ‘Wash my hands after using a toilet? Really? Is that a thing??’ Eurgh. And ‘yes, it bloody well IS a thing, did your parents teach you NOTHING as a child?’ And what’s with the need to take a book to the toilet in the first place? Surely it’s an ‘in, do the business, wash hands, out in a couple of minutes’ process, not an ‘in, read twenty pages of a novel, get piles, I might wash my hands, I might not, and out’ thing? Honestly, some people…. Anyway, I overcame my ‘people reading li

 Where did that week go, then? Who knows, but what I DO know is that it’s been one of those weeks that’s been full of minor irritations. What I call a ‘fidget week.’  Of course, the irritations are all subjective and I could easily have glided (glid? glod?) through the week if I’d laughed in the face of irritation and guffawed at the threat of bubbling blood pressure. I don’t know if my blood pressure did actually bubble, but I took the precaution to ground myself regularly and do mini-meditations. Just in case.  Firstly, the 1000 litres of oil I ordered on 6th August failed to materialise in our oil tank during the time window given on the order confirmation, which was ‘on or before 19th August.’ Now, I wasn’t concerned that I’d run out of oil because I never let the tank dip below a third full. But I did object to the non-delivery of a fairly costly outlay during the time scale allotted. This is all my fault, of course, because I should NOT allow my own habits of precision, excellent

 I’ve spent pretty much all day helping Heather and Ollie to move into their new home. Set off at 7.15 this morning, collected large van from van hire company, drove to storage facility, loaded stuff into van, drove to new house, unloaded stuff from van, carted things upstairs, nearly got stuck underneath a mattress, met the new neighbours including two adorable little girls, one of whom blew bubbles over us and showed off her new unicorn wristwatch. Drove back to storage facility, loaded rest of stuff into van, swept out storage facility, drove back to new home, unloaded rest of stuff, stopped at 1.45 for lunch purchased from nearby supermarket. That was the order of the day. Boxes and bags, furniture and crates. I shall be dreaming about shifting boxes, I think. Drove back to Damson Cottage, arriving just after 3 p.m, to collect Ollie’s car, loaded his and Heather’s car with remaining of stuff they had at our place, mostly plants and a coffee table donated by us. And off they went, b

 Here’s an odd thing. A nice thing, but an odd thing. Yesterday evening, His Lordship Malarkey announced, ‘Lulu (a self-publishing company we’ve used in the past) has sent me £1.14 in royalties. It seems that someone in America bought two copies of ‘A Christmas Malarkey’ almost a year ago.’ Well, how strange! My writing and Andy’s illustrations have earned us £1.14 this year. I almost went crazy and bought a first class stamp with it, but reined myself back and didn’t. Serious investment is to be considered regarding the use of this unexpected wealth… However, it does give one a little teeny glow of a thrill to know that two copies of one’s book have sold. I get these little signposts every now and again, to encourage me with my writing career. I’m not sure from where the purchases were made because the only one of my books currently available on Amazon is this… …and even then I don’t know quite how it’s still there - we published it in 2010 - unless my publicist, Lord Malarkey, put it

 They moved in barely three weeks ago, did Heather and Ollie. They have been lovely house guests. They have cooked meals for us. Ollie sorted out our toilet cistern which used to take up to 10 minutes to refill after a flush. Now it takes 27 seconds! Domestically, we’ve worked around each other very nicely for two couples who have been used to their own ways of doing things for several years. We’ve even got the knack of playing musical car parking spaces now there are 4 cars on the driveway. Heather and I have enjoyed shopping trips and the occasional lunch out. We’ve watched films together, played quizzes, made jigsaw puzzles, barbecued, engaged in  deep discussions, sorted out the shite in the world. And between all this, they’ve been doing all the life admin stuff that needs to be done when moving 250 miles, changing careers, setting about creating a new life.  Even Bambino and Harris are sort of cat chums now. They follow me downstairs for breakfast in the morning, and whilst I pre

 Today, I attended a peg loom weaving day. It was nice to sit somewhere neutral and participate in a quiet activity. The rhythm of the weaving actions was calming and gave me time to think about recent events. I made this… …it’s a small rug, woven from 100% wool. It is warm, comfortingly chunky, candy floss soft and smells vaguely of laundered sheep. I may add some embroidery. I may keep it as it is. The tassels might be a tad too long. I might decide that they are just the right length. I could plait them, for a different effect.  I think it will be a nice rug to keep my toes warm when I am at my desk writing during the coming Winter. 

 The Idiot Bantams (yes, still very much alive and kicking) appear to be under the allusion that the new rustic Potting Shed has been built specifically for their personal use. I’ve caught them all in there at various times over the last week or so, scuffing up the ground, lounging on the potting table, just casually ‘hanging out’ like the Potting Shed is the place where all the cool bantams go. Yesterday, on emerging from the mini-orchard after communing with Edith and Sidney (if ever you want to experience the world in its simplest form, invite a couple of bunnies into your life) I saw Tootsie in there. Now, Andy’s hat was resting on the potting bench. The hat I attempt to make him wear so he won’t complain about having a sunburnt head. It is an off-white canvas Panama hat and, in its semi-folded form, did look a little bit like a small chicken. If you squinted and used a bit of imagination.  And Tootsie (gender-confused at the best of times) clearly thought he’d managed to attract h

 Heather is quite keen on a smashed avocado on toast. I don’t mind an avocado once it has been guacomoled but the bright green colour suggestive of Kermit the Frog Meets a Sticky End in a Blender puts me off eating avocado on even an occasional basis. Also, I’ve heard too many gruesome stories of fingers being chopped off whilst trying to de-stone an avocado. Also, I remember my Mum having stressy moments when avocados she bought for home dinner parties in the 1970s (when an avocado was all the rage as a modern cuisine starter) went from being hard as a bullet inedible to complete mush inedible in the space of half an hour. ALSO, I remember my Dad installing an avocado bathroom suite in our new house (the colour, not literally made from avocados, don’t be silly now) and thinking, what on Earth is THAT all about? Mind you, we had two bathrooms in that house and the other suite was chocolate brown. Anyway, Heather duly smashed an avocado yesterday to add to her toast and she offered me t

 On recent mornings, when I go up the garden to feed my binky bunnies, Edith and Sidney, who live in the orchard, I take a moment to squeeze the plums. They are ALMOST ready. Not quite, but almost. We are in for a good crop this year. Plums are alternate in their cropping - good year, poor year, good year, poor year. This year will be a good year… We shall eat some raw, freeze some, make some into pies and crumbles. No custard though. Because that will just make a lovely plum-based pudding taste of custard, and what is the point in that? Bleurgh…. Apart from plum squeezing, the other point of excitement for me has been watching the progress being made by Himself Lord Malarkey, Chief Potting Shed Builder. And (drum roll please…) here is the final product! (Well, as Andy said, it’s final until you tell me it needs something else putting in it…) Isn’t it lovely? Hand crafted by Himself with minimal injuries to His Person. What a star! Rustic and unique, as befitting our countryside garden