I'd have to look in my journal to try and remember this week.
Monday - the usual teaching
Tuesday - the usual teaching, round to friends in the evening.
I started and finished a couple of summer sketches; a trip to London
and this one - which I did a slight 'tinker' to just now; spot the difference?
Wednesday - the usual teaching
Thursday - it was going to be a day of waiting in for deliveries, but they came early, and as a school had cancelled I had an unexpected free afternoon. So we all went off to the pub, me and Himself and the Grand Old Man. They had steaks, I had 'a lady's meal' (I am not quoting Himself) of hake and chips and mushy peas. Lady's meal or not, it came on a smaller plate!
Friday - another waiting for deliveries day. I stayed in bed for ages and ages, reading, dozing, reading, dozing until even the cat was bored.
Then I finally got dressed and came down, and did a diary page picture
and wrote some more novel, and went off to drumming.
Saturday - oh my word, Saturday, weary Saturday... I went off for the normal morning teaching. They have a problem with damp in the practice rooms where I work, so they leave the electric heaters on, turning the room into something like the Palm House at Kew, but with an all pervasive smell of rot and mould. It's not good. I would open a window if there was one, so have to be content with switching off the heater and leaving the door open while I'm in there.
I taught my eight pupils, escaping into the corridor at every opportunity to breath the fresh air through the open windows, and then it was the drive to visit my godmother (50+ difficult miles each way). It is always worth visiting her; she works hard at staying cheerful and coping with the difficulties strewing her.
But still I was glad when we arrived safely back home. It is not a drive I could safely undertake after teaching all morning; the traffic is hurried and harsh and aggressive and unforgiving.
Sunday! We've arrived! We went shopping in the afternoon, collecting this and that for my godmother for next time we visit. I'm not sure how her oesophageal stent will cope with the pickled herrings that she is desperate for, but perhaps she'll manage if we cut them up small enough.
While he was doing the hard work of shopping, I sat in the cafe (which was unfortunately unable to serve tea or coffee! due to a machine breakdown) and wrote some more of The Book in a notebook I happened to have in my bag. I've stuck the pages in, and that brings me up to the target of 1000 words per week for several weeks in a row. Happy Happy.
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The garden is still looking wonderful - so worthwhile all the angst and drama of getting it done. The whole process started this time last year, and was delayed every month and beset by obstacles. At one point I was ready to throw in the towel and live with the weeds. But look at it now!
Salvia 'Armistead' and 'Hotlips', Rudebeckia, and a Holly
The white passion flower is still producing lots of flowers
This fuschia is a potted up cutting, given by a friend
That last photograph is the corner of the raised bed where I have even managed to plant a some bulbs - no idea if they are daffodil or crocus or narcissus, I'll find out in the Spring. It will be a surprise. The plastic grid is to foil any attempts by the cats to appropriate the soil for their own purposes.
I've made a rice pudding in the microwave, and Himself is providing the first course of roast chicken, which will be ready very soon now.
Just three work-related emails left to send (I've done the other dozen already) and Saturday's lessons to write up and I'm free!!!!!! More happy happy!!!!!
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