Sunday, 11 November 2018

Sunday 11th November

Here's the music for today... called 'Brittany' by Ernest Farrer from this album;



I took this morning in bed. I decided not to go to the Centenary Armistice Day Memorial Service at church, as I'm not sure standing around would improve my cold. I did get up at about eleven, and we watched the apparently endless rows and columns of troops and groups and cohorts marching past the Cenotaph. 

I had bought a little enamel poppy this year, instead of a paper one. It turned out to be an old one that somehow was included in the tray of poppies, and is dated 2014. Still an appropriate date though.

The weather is alternately 'Let's go a for a walk' sunny and mild, and 'Let's get something done in the garden' quiet and still, and then, just as you make up your mind to go out, 'as you were' cold grey skies and rain. So we are sitting inside and enjoying the look of outside, rather than experiencing it for real. 

There are flowers on the rosemary bush, which is supposed to be a spring and summer flowering shrub. I'm not complaining. The more flowers the merrier. A rose bush was looking like 'June' last week, but the cold snap and rain changed its mind, and it is now a sad sight. 

I've had to chuck the seeds I was growing on the kitchen windowsill to eat as shoots. They have to be misted several times a day, especially in the earlier stages, and I think that the time I picked up the wrong bottle and sprayed them with dettol surface cleaner is probably one of the reasons they seemed disinclined to grow.

I finished the book club book a day or so ago, and thoroughly enjoyed it. ('The Keeper of Lost Things' by Ruth Hogan). It is definitely a 'read it again' novel. I wonder what the other book club members will think of it. It usually takes me a couple of days to reassemble sufficient brain cells after the week's teaching to think about reading, or any activity where concentration is required (eg complicated knitting, precise sewing etc). So my brain sort of 'times out' until around Saturday evening, or maybe even Sunday morning.  However this moring I was ready to read again, and downloaded 'A Presumption of Death' by Jill Paton Walsh, continuing the sequence of Lord Peter Wimsey stories. 



I know I have read  it before, but can't find the book - did I borrow it? Or have I got it as a talking book? It seemed right for the season, as it is set in the time WW2. Anyway, it is about the correct 'level of difficulty' for how I am feeling today - that is, head and nose bunged, and with a dreadful craving to 'feed a cold' - with cake, cereal, porridge, biscuits, toast, cheese straws, whatever. I am trying to fight off the cravings with cups of tea, but I am not sure how long I will be able to hold out. There is some truth (but not much) in the old adage 'feed a cold, starve a fever'; here's the Scientific American on the subject, but I'm trying to heed the warning 

'There's no need to overeat, however. The body is quick to turn recently digested food into energy, and it's also efficient at converting stored energy into fat.'

More tea? Why not.





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