Now that I’m beginning to find my way around iMac Yosemite I’d like to restart blogging more or less regularly. But what is there to say? A subject would be helpful.
The weather has been very pleasant, there’ve been no great upheavals, my bruises are fading, Millie and I have had some gentle walks, the birds are singing and the garden is taking on colour and life again.
naturalised campanulas on the edge of the football field
Paul is coming most Tuesdays and although he’s had a bit of a row with a neighbour about stuffing OUR cattle grid with OUR prunings, gardening has been a joy. The neighbour rents a garage at the road end of our drive and saw Paul unloading a barrow’s worth of twigs into the grid cavity. There’s a field between neighbour and us and we have a fairly good relationship. Neighbour was worked up because he’d been lumbered with a small grandson who obviously had ideas of his own how to pass a jolly hour or two; I heard grandad hissing “sit down, sit, sit down”.
I am glad Paul, who gives the impression of being a very gentle man, didn’t let neighbour bully him. Neighbour is the kind of man whose mouth is permanently turned down at the corners and who seems to have an equally permanent bad smell under his nose. Still, he usually admires me because he thinks of me as one of those highly organised and efficient Germans. “I don’t work for you,” Paul told him, “Go and take it up with 'She Who Must Be Obeyed’ instead". Sensible man. Neighbour hasn’t uttered a word.
dandelions, celandines and violets on a bank above the river
Well, I ask you. If you can’t even rely on a ten-years-younger friend, fit and strong and willing and able, to stay upright, whom can you trust? Friend is home again and in good spirits, I am extremely glad to say. He now understands why I hate going into hospital and drag out calling the ambulance service for as long as I can.
Son and daughter-in-law and stepdaughter came for a short visit over Easter. We see little of family, there are many months between visits, although son and I are on reasonably good terms. But I think I must appeal to son’s kind heart and get him to drive over more often: there are a surprising number of jobs too small for a paid handyman and too difficult for us; in other words, just right for the d-i-y skills of an intelligent chap who can reach those hard-to-get-to spots without climbing on a precariously balanced ladder or breaking his back to crawl into tiny spaces.
In case you think me totally selfish: I quite like to see him anyway.
So there we are. I’ve read a few books, cooked a few meals, saw a few friends, went to the pub, had a drink or two, wrestled with a couple of computers, cuddled the dog, saw a play, read some poetry, argued with Beloved, and got used to not having easy and unlimited internet access. Apparently, there is great danger of becoming dependant on social media and the net. Can’t say I’ve noticed. For a few days it felt strange not to be blogging and reading blogs but the feeling caused me no great anxiety. Still, all of you who have remained faithful to my inconsequential burblings rest assured, I shall gradually get round to visiting and paying my dues.