A Dish Of Blogallimaufry

Gardener and I may be falling out. Since he had his heart attack there is much less of him to go round, he has cut back on the number of gardens he works, as well as the hours he puts in in each individual garden;  all very understandably; now there are just three of us, another woman and me, and an old gentleman’s manor gardens. Recently the old chap has taken over most of gardener’s time to the detriment of the other two gardens. As a member of the class of centuries-established landed gentry, ordering the peasants about comes naturally to old Mr. Beesley, and gardener being a horny-handed-son-of-the-soil, having worked on the land all his life, always for the gentry and aristocracy, equally naturally defers to that class without question. Mr. Beesley even pays him less than I do, gives him neither tea nor tea breaks and certainly never ever treats him as an equal, but as a member of the Jilly-come-lately class I just haven’t the same clout, kindness and friendliness notwithstanding.

Rather darkly, -  under my breath and not so that gardener's deaf old ears could catch it  -  I’ve been muttering about organ grinders and monkeys and looked for the ring through gardener’s nose every time he complains about the old gentleman’s demands but I’m probably fighting a losing battle. These are old-fashioned people, steeped in the tradition of master and servant, and modern attitudes have not reached them.

I am looking for gardener’s replacement, just in case.

o-o-o-o-o

So, I’ve been slogging away at it on my own when it wasn’t raining.  Consequently, I’ve been collapsing on the sofa at night, or even during the afternoon;  with feet up and a comfy cushion under my back I’ve taken to reading on my ipad. It’s made a huge difference; I’ve recently noticed that my eyes tend to blur after a bit and the small print in books is getting hard to read with ease. Ipads and Kindles are the perfect reading medium for tired eyes but there is some getting used to them to do. I’m the sort of person who likes the smell of books; I also sneak a look at the final paragraph while half-way through and, even worse, I read with a pencil in my hand, marking and annotating as I go along. An electronic reader is therefore like a straitjacket, flicking from page to page without detour; yes, I can electronically highlight,  but where’s the fun in that? Real bookmarks sticking out from between the pages let me get back to the paragraph or sentence which caught my imagination so much more easily.

Another thing is that I find I can only read thrillers or soppy novels on an electronic reader. Non-fiction, literature, poetry, need paper pages for turning and returning to. I am thoroughly ashamed of some of the books I’ve downloaded and the worst of it is that all books appear on both Beloved’s and my electronic devices (I use the same email address) and when he shows interest in what has appeared on his home page I warn him under no circumstances to open certain titles.

o-o-o-o-o

We had Sunday lunch at The Sun Inn, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding was on the menu. Home-cooked beef would have been tastier - although I don’t know how to cook Yorkshires - but it’s nice to go to the pub, chat with other guests and not lift a finger myself.