I did today as quickly as I could but it still disappeared out from underneath me and made me late for work.
It was Everything Day. It was Clean Sheets Day, with all of the dusting and hoovering that happens alongside that important event, and it was Conservatory Watering Day, which doesn’t sound like much but takes almost an hour, and it was Lucy Turning Up Day, which needed some cooking. Lucy does not much like cheese on toast.
I considered my catering options, and in between all of my other activities, which included taking the dogs on a hasty scramble over the fells and dragging in some firewood, I went to Booths. Then I cooked a chicken, because Lucy and her cats like chicken, and some sausages, because everybody eats sausages, and Oliver will be home on Wednesday to help eat them. Then I made some coffee chocolates, some fudge and a pan of tomato soup. Actually it was Everything Soup, because I chucked in everything I had got left over in the fridge from the last time Mark was home. There were tomatoes and celery and onions and garlic and a lettuce.
There is a type of soup called Lettuce Soup. I have never made it but it made me think probably lettuce was an all right ingredient for soup, even if it was a bit wilted. The soup seemed reasonably soupy anyway, and Lucy said That Smells Nice when she came in, so probably it was fine. There were lots of tomatoes so I don’t suppose she will notice anyway.
This also doesn’t sound like very much, but along with the dusting and hoovering and clean sheets, I was rushing around like an Asda shopper who has a month’s purchases to complete and has just realised that they have misread the bus timetable.
By the time Lucy and the cats arrived I was very pleased to sit down with a cup of tea. Of course I had not finished, and was busily squirting water all over the conservatory floor when they turned up, much to the disdain of the cats, who regard the conservatory as being their own personal space. It is a convenient space for storing their dinners out of reach of the dogs, enabling them to steal the dogs’ food from a position of assurance, and also as a lavatory. Their litter tray lives in there, but they don’t use that, preferring to visit the flower beds for such matters.
The flower beds are full of hyacinths at the moment, they smell glorious when I open the door.
I suppose that is about to change.
I have not seen the blackbird for quite a few days now, and am beginning to feel that I might have lost him. This is sad, but at least he is not here to become elevenses for the marauding cats. That would have been unspeakable.
I miss him. His cheerful warbling made me happy to dawdle when I was faffing about in the yard, laden with washing and firewood. I hope he has just taken a holiday and will come back. Perhaps he has found a girlfriend and is off visiting her at her own house.
The cats have settled back in nicely. I went upstairs and found one of them standing rock-still, utterly paralysed with horror. I followed her gaze and realised that I had forgotten to put their cushions on the office windowsill. Obviously I remedied this immediately, and she jumped up and kneaded them thoroughly to check that they were right before fixing me with a furious glare and leaping off to go and see if there might be any chicken ready yet.
Of course it was lovely to see Lucy. She has been mostly camping in her new house because nothing is done in there yet. We have promised to go and help her once Mark comes off his oil rig, which will make it a bit better.
I am on the taxi rank now, and have left her at home thinking about colour schemes. At the moment she thinks she would like to paint her bedroom yellow and her bathroom green.
What a good job I saved my worn-out dungarees in case I ever needed to do any painting.
