This has been another day off, and although we have been rather more productively occupied than yesterday, this is still going to be a short entry because I suspect that a long one would quickly become too dull to read. I am sure you are not interested in details of folding up washing and hoovering kitchens, and it has been a contentedly quiet day in a contentedly quiet life.
We have had the laziest of spring days.
It has been cool and fresh and clear and there is blossom just beginning to drift in the air.
Mark bought me some daffodils from the florist, which are filling the house with their lovely scent. We have got hyacinths in our garden, carefully planted by me over the years because of their glorious scent. Tiresome Roger Poopy loves the smell of them as well, and joyously thrusts his nose into every new blossom as it arrives, inhaling deeply, after which he carefully lifts his leg and decorates each one with a little stream of wee, presumably by way of an appreciative present in return.
We milled around the house and garden doing tidy things and enjoying the lovely clean air drifting through the doors into our woodsmoky winter house, and eventually decided to celebrate the springtime by going out for lunch.
The little bistro across the road has been closed since November having new bits built into it. We have missed this very much. They have got a new room upstairs where you can sit by the huge balcony windows and stare out across to the library and watch all your neighbours wagging past.
We didn’t have any money, but we have never let a little detail like that stop us from doing anything that sounds exciting. We went down the seats in the backs of the taxis. This is always a fertile source of funds because everybody who gets in is drunk, and most of them have got pockets full of change, and some of them fall asleep on the back seats so that the cash slides out of their pockets. Every now and again we lift the seats up and use it to fund us through emergencies.
In addition to this we raided the two pound coin collection. There was not much in this because we have only just raided it, although I forget what for. Nevertheless in the end we raised enough to have a pizza between us. This turned out to be not in the least a hardship, because the pizza was enormous, and laden with chunks of unidentifiable and spicy meats, which we liked very much. We sat happily and looked out at the springtime and thought that the world was a kindly place.
After that we took the top sign off Mark’s taxi so that nobody would try and flag us down, not that they ever do until at least Easter, and went to see Elspeth, where we made ourselves at home on her sofa with her red wine until we realised that actually she would probably quite like to go to bed. We have come home and I thought I would write this hastily so that nobody would think I was having two days of reprehensible idleness.
In the productive life stakes it has been an improvement on yesterday.
The photograph is the view from the new upstairs in the bistro. The library is the rooftop behind the tall trees. We live at the back of the shops.
