I got up just before sunrise on Saturday morning. Put on a sarong, my pink crocks and a little black bolero thingy.
I left as the sun came up.
It took precisely one hour and five minutes to do 45 miles. Arrived at the cottage and the mist had descended.
Emmy climbed onto the bed, I untied my sarong, kicked my crocks into the wall and fell into bed.
At 10.20 I woke with a start
I had enough time to get dressed, and take the lid off ‘Nellie.’ It’s the first time this year that the weather has been warm enough to travel with the roof down.
I visited my osteopath who confirmed that a de-tox can often weaken the whole body so wearing my purple bootees, last Tuesday, did in fact knock my posture.
He didn’t know whether he liked my hair, he reminded me that when old women do in fact get to be old women their hair gets thin and….yadder, yadder, yadder.
He made me stand up and turn round whilst he studied my head and scuzzy old red t-shirt, and said it did in fact suit me although the red t-shirt could go.
He makes me laugh. He is the dishiest 30 something I know, I’m even older than his mother, and yet he felt the need to make sure that his ancient client looked okay. I left with a spring in my step, after his manipulation, and a spring in my step because my hair wasn’t as thin as my age would suggest.
I shopped at the farmers market, buying fresh spinach and two of the biggest leeks this side of Avignon. A big mistake. The bigger they are the woodier they are. But I am going to steam them and eat them with some olive oil and garlic.
I got home just as the sun hit the highest point. Sitting in the swing set reading a new book, wonderful. The old man stayed in the flat as he rehearsed all day Saturday. He has so many lines to learn that he decided to sleep over. So I had the cottage to myself. Well Emmy is my little furry companion. She’s a real scaredy-cat, tucks herself into the smallest space near me when I’m home, lovely.
Mowing the lawn was a real joy. The veg. have gone in, thanks to Anna – horticultural student – the mint has taken over one bed, the rosemary is flowering. The purple sage beginning to grow. The clematis is beginning to burst their buds , the cyclamen azalea is out, the pink one about to follow, the yellow one all proud in amongst the forget-me-nots and buttercups and by Jim’s shed the biggest, blousiest, pink rhododendron you have ever seen has wrapped itself round the eucalyptus tree. The magnolia has lost all its petals and the comfrey has taken over the right hand side of the garden all in all the garden looks gorgeous…
On Saturday night I decided to fit in the flicks. So I drove like the clappers to the cinema which is twenty minutes outside Tunbridge Wells. Bloody stupid people putting it in the industrial estate, really annoys me.
Anyway got myself a senior citizens ticket and went to see FOUR LIONS, Chris Morris’s film. I laughed and the woman next to me tutted. I couldn’t help laughing it was funny. A really good film. But the idiot woman sitting next to me ruined my total enjoyment of it. The cinema was cold, I complained before the film and after it. Parochial cinema doesn’t have a clue. I don’t normally get on my high horse but when cinema goers are treated like popcorn traffickers it really gets my goat. Go and see FOUR LIONS….
When I got home I put on Michael Moores CAPITALISM A LOVE STORY. By 2.30 I was weeping. I called jim who said it made him more angry than lachrymose. Thank God for Obama, don’t we need a change in economic thinking now? We cannot be living in a land that allows one percent of the population to own 96% of the wealth like them yankees do, can we?
This morning I set up the garden, bought the Sunday papers and settled down for sunshine and news. Made a huge salad, ate it in the shade, cleared the garden, packed up the little red car and set off for London.
I left at 4.00 and arrived in the flat by 5.30.
The ‘oosbind and me took all the stale bread and cakes and went to the waters edge to feed the Battersea swans and geese and ducks. As the church bells peeled it felt like we had gone back a few hundred years.
The leeks are cooked, I will eat them on the balcony, alright on a plate on the balcony, with the carnivore after which we’ll watch Nick Frost in ‘Money’ and that’s the weekend over with.
As weekends go it was a good one. Next weekend is bank holiday so it means an extra day with the cat and caboodle.
Sleep well and have a good new week.
1 thought on “Poirot for supper”
Oh Jeni what a lovely weekend and what a lovely blog. I felt like I was sitting in the garden with you!
Hope Kirsten is keeping well and we all get to enjoy these few days of sunshine.
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