19.53. My hands, nose and feet are cold. i’ve turned the heating up full. The ‘oosbind has turned it back down again.
We spent the weekend in the cottage.
I took the train – 3.45 – from Charing Cross on Friday evening. Jim collected me at TWells. When I walked in the cottage I had to stop myself throttling the old git. Instead I took out the vacuum cleaner and whisked away a whole week of his detritus.
After which I could settle down to an evening of Friday night nonsense.
Hung parliament or no, it was good to get away from politics for a couple of hours.
The very notion that the LIb Dems could even consider getting into bed with the Tories is the very reason I couldn’t vote for them. When Cameron talks about compromising I wonder just what kind of compromises the Cleggites are prepared to make. I for one would go with a lib-lab pact. As for Mr. Brown, shouldn’t we leave him alone now. A new Labour party leader? Maybe but who?
Jim and I went vegetable shopping on Saturday. It was so cold I wore a great big wooly scarf which I wrapped around my neck. I looked like a Maasai Madam. We didn’t even stop for a cuppa, unlike us.
Dear friends of ours came for tea. They are renovating a barn, living in a caravan and finding hand grenades in their field. The police came and exploded it. Nobody was hurt but it was high adventure for a couple of hours.
‘Spottify’ has changed our lives. Music, all sorts, that you play through a computer. I don’t know the details but it seems good value. It’s legal and we listen to everything from cool jazz to hot beats. Then we settled down for ‘Britains Got Talent’. not so much a guilty secret as de rigeur in my job, otherwise I wouldn’t know about the 80 year old great granny with a voice of Bryn Terfel.
I finally got to mow the lawn. I wore my scarf again, a puffer jacket and gloves. My nose ran from start to finish. The magnolia has shed most of its petals, the azaleas are out, the rhodedendrons are just about to pop and the catoneaster is in full bud. The trouble is with this weather I’m worried that it’s all going to die. The apple blossom is stunning but looking desperate for sun. Just thinking about being in the garden has had me running for that bloody black scarf again.
Excuse me while I wind it round my neck, ugrrrgh…..
Jim’ s tuning his guitar, he starts rehearsal tomorrow, one week early as they have added Dublin to their itinerary, it’ll be lovely having him here for a month.
Mopped the floor, put washing in, sorted the fridge and now it’s time to settle down for Sunday Night at The London Asylum.
Back to normal tomorrow, although I don’t doubt that the boys will be pulling to pieces the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.
Pray for sun please…..