I am on a very quiet taxi rank.
I have hardly been disturbed at all since my arrival. I do not mind this, because I have got far more interesting things to do than listen to people making excuses for being too idle to walk, I have been investigating hydroponic plant systems.
This, as you know, has been an interest for some time, although not one I have pursued very much, mostly because I have got more than enough problems with the plants that we have got already. The conservatory is so very full that it is going to need hacking back again soon, because once again we are struggling to get in and out of the kitchen. The Swiss cheese plant has fruited so much that we have stopped being interested, and the fruits are just bursting out of their pods all over the place. The geranium is now obstructing the light and the olive tree is obstructing the door.
I love the sort of gardening that is all about coaxing little plants into life. I am not nearly as enthusiastic about the sort of gardening that you have got to do with an axe after the tiny specimens which you so recklessly encouraged have grown into the sort of horticulture which might have been grown from the five unpromising seeds that you exchanged for your good milk cow.
Even the front garden, planted only last year, is once again beginning to make the house look as though it is auditioning to be a location shoot for Sleeping Beauty. I do not think I am one of Mother Nature’s little gardeners.
Mark says that the plants do not mind being hacked back, but I am not entirely convinced. I don’t think they even like it very much when you collect their dead leaves instead of leaving them to rot down warmly around their feet.
I have no reason whatsoever to imagine that I would be any more successful a gardener with a dish of water and a growing light, which seem to be the main ingredients for hydroponic culture, but we are contemplating gardening in the new camper van, and I quite like the idea of growing things like basil and lavender, to make it smell nice.
I am less interested in the prospect of dead leaves on the carpet and fertilised water sloshing about all over the place, and so the jury is still out.
Cacti might also be a good idea, thank you very much for that one. I am considering all of our options with interest.
I have not been gardening today. I have been cleaning.
Oliver helped me.
We have started cleaning the dresser. This is not a job for a single afternoon, even with two of us, so we have just managed the two top shelves. There is still a lot of dresser to go.
We took everything off and I have washed it all, whilst Oliver polished the shelves with a mixture of beeswax polish and lavender oil. This smells wonderful, and has given the shelves the deep, rich gleam of a household with a truly virtuous wife.
I explained to Oliver that being able to polish things is an important part of the preparation for being a soldier, and whilst I am not sure that he was entirely convinced, he was sufficiently good-natured not to argue. He will be going into the Army on November 22nd, starting his basic training at Catterick, a couple of weeks after Lucy’s wedding, and so we will have lots of time for spring cleaning before then.
I was very pleased with the spring cleaning. I had not been feeling in the least inclined to start, and indeed, had been rather wondering if I could find an excuse to go and have a little snooze. My better self was determined, however, and came up with the brilliant wheeze of making a cup of coffee, to drink whilst I was doing the accounts on the computer, so I did.
It was instant coffee, which I don’t usually drink, but I was far too idle to faff about with the whole coffee pot shenanigans, and just chucked three spoons into a cup and half-filled it with boiling water.
The resulting liquid was not exactly delicious, but it worked brilliantly, and by the time I had finished the accounts I was almost completely inspired to dash downstairs and start washing the winter grime off the champagne glasses.
I was very pleased about this.
I might try it again tomorrow.
