Mole would be proud of today’s title – although it doesn’t live up to Colin’s A, B & C pattern I’m afraid. And is such a pattern a ‘distinction’, I muse?
I have just returned from an active few days spring-cleaning a house in Suffolk – only to notice that the same attention now needs to be applied to my own house, where the spiders have been very busy and several light bulbs seem to have conspired to ‘die’ around the same time. (Have you noticed that the box of spare bulbs never has the size you are looking for, but the odd weird one you have hung on to for years ‘just in case’ is NEVER needed?)
Having decided that the house could wait a bit longer I donned my new wellie-warmer socks, wellies and a stout pair of gardening gloves, and went out to dead-head the thyme.
(Any jokes playing on that particular pun: Did you have a good thyme? It was about thyme you did that. etc. on a post card please…)
Half-way through the rockery (I know, it’s not a rockery plant, but it grows like a weed and has taken over the whole bed) the heavens darkened and then let forth the kind of deluge that sends you scurrying in for a well-deserved cuppa, only to scurry out again to rescue the jacket left hanging on a branch of the old and definitely leaning crabapple tree, returning somewhat damper for your pains. Actually, the rain did me a good turn, as too long in the garden at this time of year locates muscles you had forgotten you owned. An hour was long enough – I still expect to find I’ve seized up completely – probably just as I have settled into my armchair later tonight.
To those of you who noticed the prolonged excuse of ‘illness’ – I can supply a sick note. It will say something like ‘Had a flu-type virus that would not go away and seemed to kill a few brain cells but did nothing for the hoped-for weight loss’. OV joined me in the fun and between us we were ill for two months. Ghastly. Anyway, all is well again and we have rejoined the human race – thank you for your sympathy – particularly the transatlantic kind which is definitely superior to the British kind – coming as it did when everyone here was just fed up with me being ill and making excuses!
Back to the Spring-cleaning (the subject, not the task) isn’t it lovely that we have had the sunshiney days which have made the grime noticeable? A small price to pay – the cleaning, I mean, for all the bounce put back into one’s step and the foolish optimism which sends one out for a healthy walk, in the foolish belief that one won’t then scoff three biscuits and a slab of cake on one’s return.
Last night OV and I went down memory lane – we have just acquired an old slide projector and were able to see a whole collection of photographic slides we hadn’t viewed for years. There were all the photos of college friends’ weddings – back in the early 70’s, our own honeymoon (82) and scenes of holidays in Italy, France and Cornwall. There we were – young, slim and dark haired – looking achingly similar to our own ‘children’ today. And of course, inside, we feel not so very different.
I confided in a relative this week that I have a regret – not ever having learnt to sail. Immediately she came back at me with "When you are in your mid 70’s you’ll look back to today and think ‘why didn’t I get on with it when I was still young and fit and in my 50’s?’" She had a point.
So, like Mole – look out everyone – there’s a riverbank near here and, once the weather improves a bit, you may well find me there – messing, just messing about in boats!