I am having a lovely day.
I am getting my little world straight and organised. I have even washed my taxi.
The good weather is helping with this sort of project. I think the Weather Gods have gone on holiday and accidentally left the sunshine switched on in their absence.
I would not like to have their bill when they get back.
It is not especially warm, but I have dried all of my washing in the garden for weeks. I keep washing extra things, like dressing gowns, because they are heavy to dry and you never know when the Weather Gods might get back and discover their mistake: but still it does not rain.
I went out to the camper van this morning, and opened all of the windows whilst I was there, so that the cool clear air would blow through it. It was not exactly a lovely experience, because I realised that I was just longing to be filling the fridge up and driving away in the sunshine.
This is my favourite sort of being in the camper, when we do not have any urgent appointments, and when we can start the engine and wonder where we might like to go.
I was there because of putting the sheets back on the bed, because I washed them after our recent wood-smoky adventure at the farm. I very nearly did not put them back, because they have worn so very thin that they need sides-to-middling. I do not much like sides-to-middled sheets, because of the irritating seam down the middle, so I thought I would give them one last go before I take them off and start messing about with them, and hope they do not wear into holes in the meantime.
All of our sheets are getting a bit threadbare at the moment. The one on our bed is a fitted sort of sheet, and so can’t be cut up and re-sewn, and has had to be patched. The duvet cover is patched, and even Oliver’s sheets are patched. This is because even when we have got some money, sheets are such a dull thing to spend it on. They are not at all like scented candles or new boots or champagne or Chanel soap or thrilling books, and so I haven’t.
I haven’t bought candles or boots or books or champagne or soap either, but probably I would if the opportunity presented itself. It would be awful if somebody brilliant wrote a new book and I had just wasted all of my money on sheets.
When I had made the beds up with the now somewhat fragile sheets, I came home, and I am pleased to tell you that I have both massacred the dreadful blackfly, and cleaned the office window.
I cut all of the ivy back as well. It had started to plaster itself all over the window. This is bad enough when it is beautiful green shiny ivy, because it makes your room dark and forbidding, but it was not. It was hundreds and hundreds of miserably half-eaten stalks, every one black with thousands of little munching creatures.
Cutting it back and clearing up made the most dreadful mess. The blackfly made ghastly smears all over the windowsill, and the devoured remnants of the leaves were heavy with sticky blackfly poo.
It took ages. The window was crusted with it and had to be scrubbed.
We will not think about that any more.
Eventually I went downstairs and made Caesar salad and cake for Mark’s dinner. The idea was that we would do some healthier eating and get thinner, but I did not consider until I was almost finished that actually there is nothing healthy about Caesar salad and cake. Caesar salad is mostly bacon and cheese with croutons, it is basically a chopped breakfast sandwich.
The cake is not much better. The Peppers gave us some left over vegetables, which had given me the inspired idea of finding out what courgettes would taste like in cake. I did not invent that idea, I am not that creative a thinker. Number One Daughter told me that you could do it, and I had stuck it on the back burner of contemplation until some time when Oliver had gone back to school.
He is no longer around to be revolted, so today I tried it, and I can tell you that actually it is rather nicer than you might think.
Courgettes do not really taste of very much, it is not like adding garlic and onion to a cake, and what they do is make the cake very moist indeed. It does not make the cake actually good for you, because of all of the sugar and butter, but probably it is better for you than cake which doesn’t contribute much to your Five A Day. Anyway, I like cake to be rich and heavy and damp, which it is. I am actually rather pleased with it.
I cut some slices with butter and left them with the Caesar salad for Mark’s dinner when I went out to work.
We will be thin in no time.
Have a confusing picture of the ivy. You can see the conservatory roof underneath.
