Tuesday 1st November - The flying greenhouse

 Yesterday my parcel of goodies from hobbycraft arrived. 

 I had managed to restrain myself to some wooden trays to help with organising my new work area which has a shallow but deep shelf under the work surface. Anything you put into this hidey hole tend to slide right to the back, out of sight, until it drops through the open back and lands on your toes. The trays are there to prevent this irritating even, or at the vary least, reduce the frequency at which it occurs.

And I like the way some households, mainly in the USA, hang a decorative wreath outside which changes with the seasons. At last I have decided to act upon this thought, and included with the trays a wreath, a pale coloured garland and a packet of gold 'rose leaves'.

I was going to take a picture yesterday, but my mobile is getting on in years and the battery will quite abruptly run out of power. 

I was kept awake last night by the wind and the rain, which was really rather over the top ("keep the noise down, can't you? Some people are trying to get to sleep here!"). I wondered if the wreath would survive with the wind hurling in from that direction. All seems to be OK.

  

There should have been about 12 golden petals; I noticed that they were not brilliantly attached to their wires (you get what you pay for, and I didn't pay very much) when I made up the wreath, and this morning there seem to be only half a dozen left. I might add something or other to the bottom when the weather has calmed down. A gold bow, perhaps.

One of the two plastic greenhouse did not manage so well; the old one, where the plastic has all perished and only the netting is left was fine, with its sunflower seedlings, and the broad bean seeds (several are through), cauliflowers (likewise) and peas (nothing happening there yet). The newer one lifted off and flew down the side of the house and halfway down the back garden, leaving an upturned table, the bottom shelf and all the bricks that were weighting it down scattered about the drive way. Luckily I hadn't put anything in it yet!

Here's The Flying Dutchman... Wagner...

Monday 23rd December - A day full of incident

But first, and maybe last, the O Antiphon of the Day - listen, and relax

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U21la_YEJbY

O Emmanuel, our King and lawgiver, for whom the nations wait, their Saviour: come to save us, Lord, our God.

Now, those incidents;

I am mulling over in my mind what to do about refreshments after my godmother's funeral in the New Year. It is possible that there may be only a scant dozen present; me, Himself, my father, maybe her cousin, her next-door neighbours, their neighbours, and possibly one of the delightful team who came in every day during the last ten days of my godmother's life. So that's nine. In a chapel that holds up to one hundred. They had better not all sit in the back row!

So, about these refreshments - I know that the neighbours won't stay, they said so, and now we are down to a possible seven. All I want is somewhere that will let us sit in a quiet corner of a lounge and serve tea, coffee, and a slice of cake. Maybe a sandwich.

I do not want to book a full buffet for a minimum of 20 people!

Still, I have another couple of days to sort things out.

We drove to that neck of the woods today, through a lovely bright morning, admiring the shimmering effect of the sun on the flooded fields on either side of the rivers... found the crematorium, looked at one nearby venue (closed), tried to find another, and then our attention was caught by a strange noise coming from the car tyres. At this stage we were on a busy dual carriageway, so kept going until we reached the first venue - a pub called the Golden Retriever. Now open! This meant that I could wait in the warm, by an open fire, while Himself and the AA solved the flat tyre problem - fitting the space-saver spare.

I'd have chosen the Gold Retriever for the funeral refreshments then and there, but for two things - 'we are usually open by half past ten' - hmm, usually is not good enough - and 'no, we don't serve cake'.

By this time we were pretty well finished, so drove to my godmother's house, picked up a few things that we need, and then to a nearby restaurant/hotel for lunch. He had a steak - it had been that kind of day. This place would be pretty well perfect, but they don't serve cake either. Just restaurant and bistro food.

After a good meal we just came home, for coffee and - not cake, mincemeat surprise scone from yesterday, warmed with butter. He's organised a new tyre for Friday, and I've informed one set of relatives 'I doubt we'll be able to come - Mum and Dad are very frail now; even getting to the shops is a huge effort for them' and the other is not answering the phone tonight.

Supper was easy - I made vegetable soup, and have set aside two portions for the freezer. If we don't have them later, I'll have soup to take to work next term.

There's a fair bit of tinselling to do yet - it might happen, or it might not.

I keep getting distracted by other things... knitting.... doodling

Monday 20th May - what? wha? wh?

This is roughly how the day began and ended today - so much happened... everything changed every moment...

 I filled up the first half hour of the day, before anything external invaded our lives by writing out a piece of music I will need on Wednesday, when I will be giving a piano lesson to a bored 11-year-old-teenager who doesn't like practising. Banal, maybe, but will fit the bill nicely. I'm not sure how to finish it, so I left the ending for another time;

It is a sort of mish mash of all the teenager-y compositions I have ever listened to...

Now, remember, it is still morning and we have only just finished our first cup of coffee of the day.. 
Name one important thing to have got completely sorted by the time the painter turns up at 8.30 am on a Monday morning.

Well, B and Q opens at 8:30 so while we was setting up we went out and bought two 5l cans of it. I can't exactly remember what colour we settled on - I think it was Almond White. Whatever. It will be much better than the tired old paint we had before.

We also snaffled a bag of earth and other bits and pieces for the garden, so I was able to plant the tomato seedlings I was given yesterday - two for hanging baskets, two for tubs in the veggie patch.

A telephone call from my father brought useful information regarding the process for arranging for my Godmother to move into a flat of her own in the same accommodation as him. More immediately, it meant that I wasn't going to have to try and arrange a meeting with the manager into the gap between teaching piano from home (9.30 to 11 am) and teaching at a local school (1.30 to 3pm)

Only 9.30 am -  time for teaching at home...

and afterwards, time to start a 14 day on-line writing course, where you spend half an hour a day, every day, for 14 days to try and get going, while he cooks

Lunch.

School

Home

More piano teaching

Supper

Knitting

Television

Blog post

I don't usually resort to 'language' but these cat pictures just seemed to fit the bill.

Definitely a Three Chocolate Biscuit day.

Sunday 19th May - NOT a Sabbath Rest

Having discovered yesterday evening that work is to begin on painting the hall-stairs-and-landing tomorrow, he had a busy busy day.

The two bookshelves on the landing were emptied and reduced to their component parts. I've advertised them round the church group as we don't intend to put them back. All the books are in the son's bedroom. The plan is to select the few, VERY FEW, books we wish to keep, and send all the others on their way. (Son and daughter, take note!)

The top of one of the bookshelves is a bit damaged; this happened when Himself made a sudden and unexpected descent from the loft many years ago. We are eternally gratefully to that bookshelf for saving him from a headlong tumble over the banister and down the stairs.

We have a stack of cassettes to go - mostly nursery rhymes and Thomas the Tank Engine stories... speak now, or forever hold your peace.

All the house plants are sitting disconsolately on the patio outside in the rain. I'm hoping it doesn't freeze (although that would solve the aloe vera problem). 

While clearing the hall I discovered a massive pile of those charity collection bags that get shoved through the letterbox several times a week (oh, to be living up a muddy lane rather than in a suburban street). One was clearly biodegradable. I thought I had taken a picture of the heap of confetti surrounding the couple of items waiting to go to some charity... but it's not there on my phone.

The hall is in a state that no-one has seen since it was last painted about twenty-five or more years ago.

However the dining room table is worse than ever

and the heaps have invaded half the floor space.

(A cello, a djembe, a saxophone and three bags for the samba drums. The place mats are sitting on a cajun)

It's all a bit overwhelming. And it's not as though I did most of the work - holding bits and pieces while hooks and pictures were taken down, carrying one or two boxes upstairs, was about the limit of my usefulness. We went out for lunch in order to buck ourselves up ready to finish the job. Right now I'm thinking that retiring to bed for a couple of weeks with books and boxes of chocolates might be a most desirable thing.