Dearie me, everybody, I am intoxicated again.
We have had the loveliest sunshine day.
We started off by having leftover pizza for breakfast, which was the nicest possible way to start the day, and reminded us both happily of our rascally intoxicated behaviour of the night before.
After that we got on with doing some domestic things.
Mark telephoned Barclaycard and told them that he has got a reckless wife and was fed up of paying interest on his credit card. They thought that this was quite reasonable so they have cancelled the interest for the next three months. I am telling you this just in case anybody else has a Barclaycard.
After that we went out into the sunshine. We dug out all of the exhausted flower beds on the tops of the walls in our front garden, and refilled them with our home made compost which is mostly muck from the farm.
Home made compost is not like the stuff you get in the shops, for a start there are bits of stray baler twine in it, and worms and spiders and stones, and the odd lump of dung which has not properly decomposed. You would not want to do baking afterwards without thoroughly scrubbing your fingernails.
Mark brought a trailer load of it home yesterday, and this morning he wheeled barrowloads of it around to the front. We dug out all of the ancient sandy soil from the narrow beds and refilled everything. We replanted the ground around Oliver’s trampoline and cut the grass and talked for ages to the Conservative candidate who happened to be passing again. He is a very nice boy. The Liberal Democrats do not bother campaigning at our house because I have met Tim Farron on a number of occasions and we prefer to avoid one another. I do not think that Windermere has a Labour candidate at all.
We planted marigolds and petunias and sweet peas, which are my favourites. Then we moved around to the back of the house, and Mark built us a garden seat whilst I planted seeds and tidied up the shed.
The shed was a dreadful mess. We had spilt so much stuff on the floor that there was a layer of worms living in it. I shovelled them out and into the compost heap. We found all sorts of stuff that we had forgotten we had got. There was a new door handle for the front door that we bought in an inspired moment and never remembered to install. There were some sheep shears and half a dozen different varieties of glue, and some seeds for French beans, which I planted. There were a lot of spiders and a great deal of ancient string and a toolbox for a Jaguar, left over from Number Two Daughter’s days of owning one.
The builders at the end of the road have been kindly leaving bits of leftover wood in our garden as a present. This is very handy free fuel, but this time Mark sawed it all up and has made us a garden seat, on which we have put two of the camper van’s now redundant cushions.
This is how we have come to be drunk.
We have got the most splendid garden seat, which we christened with a large glass of Cabernet Sauvignon.
This was a rubbish idea before we had had had dinner.
After a day’s labours and a glass of wine and a great deal of sunshine we finished up having bread and fried prawns for dinner.
We enjoyed this very much, even though it is not exactly inspired gourmet dining. It was jolly good, because the oil was some I prepared about two years ago, and which has had chillis and onions and spices stewing in it for all that time. We tipped the lot into a frying pan, added the prawns and then ate it by dipping soft fresh bread into it.
We had another glass of wine as well.
It might be my bed time.
The picture is me trying out the garden seat. I had already finished the glass of wine by then and unfortunately it shows.
