Some of the garden hyacinths had fallen over today, and I cut them and brought them into the house.
I would not have allowed myself to do this if they had been all right, but they weren’t, and now I have the intense pleasure of cobalt-blue hyacinths in a jug on my dressing table, filling the bedroom with their heavy scent. There are clean sheets on the bed, dried in the garden, and the bedroom is now a wonderful place to be.
The springtime is marvellous.
I cooked the dinners that I should have cooked yesterday as quickly as I possibly could, and then got on with the things that I actually wanted to do. Mark is going to have some time off next week and we are going to go away in the camper van, so I have been trying to finish some of those projects, like the wardrobe door.
Mark has been busy at work. He has been looking through some of the figures and spreadsheets and doing some costings. He says that Ted needs to apply more financial discipline. I did not think I had better comment about that, and have resolved to keep the credit card statement to myself.
It would appear that their business is actually doing quite well. I am relieved about this because I am still hoping to retire in luxury and idleness one day. Ted is still on his yacht, where he will be staying for another couple of weeks, so Mark is in charge. It looks as though they might be able to pay themselves some wages soon. I will like that. Presumably so will Ted’s wife.
I went to the ironmonger’s and bought some upholstery nails, and then covered the lid of the box-cum-handy-stool that Mark made yesterday. I put a layer of foam on it, and then some fabric left over from making the curtains. There is a picture of it above. It needs holes cutting in the sides for handles, and then I will paint it. It will do the job perfectly. I hardly hit my thumbs at all with the hammer, and considered it an achievement.
After that I settled down in the sunshine to paint my wardrobe door. This was a very peaceful experience. Roger Poopy, who is feeling pleased with himself because he is being good, put his head on my knee, and I listened to Part Two of the incomprehensible afternoon play on Radio Four.
This still made no sense despite my having listened carefully to both episodes, sometimes Radio Four can be monumentally rubbish. Especially I get irritated by the sort of programme where somebody goes for a long walk. If I want to go for a walk then my first thought is not usually to sit down and switch the radio on.
Either I like science programmes, or the sort of programme where somebody is explaining a point of view with which I happen to agree, or else interesting stories. I don’t even mind dull stories, The Archers being a case in point. I have considered getting some more audio books to fill these gaps in their broadcasting schedule, but when I looked they were a tenner each, and to be honest I think I probably spend enough money on books already.
In the end I turned the radio off and just thought about things instead. I painted the leafy bit at the top of the door, and really it is almost finished now.
Mark was late home, and I did not see him until he came down to the taxi rank this evening. He was very complimentary about the box lid and remarked about how little blood I had splattered all over it.
We are working late tonight, because it is the weekend, but when we go home we have got clean sheets and flowers to make us happy.
It is lovely to have something to look forward to.
(I know not to end a sentence with a preposition, but don’t care. I pay the site fee and can write what I like.)
