Monday 27th April 2015

Sunday.

More rain.

Lots more rain.

THe cats were even more impatient Sunday than the day before, with Scully chasing her tail under the wardrobe, meaning I laid in listening to her bumping her head. OK, I'll get up. At quarter to six.

I feed them, then check the interwebs, make a coffee and sit down to watch the football. I miss Norwich's turn on the Football League show, and then watch the story of the previous afternoon's games in the Prem, with Leicester climbing out of the bottom four. All exciting stuff.



But we're still heading for the play-offs.

I warm up a baguette, or more accurately, its smaller brother, a baton. Lashed it with melted butter and marmalade. Along with a hoooge mug of tea, that's breakfast done. Before the rain arrives, we go outside to tidy up the garden, deadhead some daffs, as you do. Bu tthen the light drizzle turned heavier, so we abandoned the garden for elevenses and another cuppa.

Jools went to visit Nan, but she has an infection, is delirious and has been drugged to the eyeballs. She is sleeping. Jools leaves and comes back.



The rain continues to fall, so we settle into our usual routines, me on the computer and Jools beading upstairs. We have music playing, all seems well with the world.

With a gap in the clouds, we go back outside and transplant some ferns, as you do, then with the rain coming down, and football on the radio, I decide to prepare dinner: simple roast chicken, but with chestnut and sage stuffing. I had bought a bag of ready cooked chestnuts, so added them to the stuffing, and three sausages, skinned, and mixed them up. Stuffed the chicken, seasoned it, and popped it in the oven. Within 20 minutes the smell was wonderful. But it would be two hours before it was ready.

I prepared the veg, the Yorkshire pudding mix and slowly it came together. At half five all was ready, the puddings and roast potatoes just crispy and perfect.

And with Chelski and The Arse battling out a dull 0-0 on the radio, we finished up, cleared away and the evening was ours. The rain had stopped, but was cool and overcast. We played some records. Yes, records, the new PSB one, which is growing really strongly. And somehow the day faded to evening and that was that.

Another weekend gone, but next week it's a three day bank holiday.

Hoorah!

I suppose I should add at this point, despite my writing about rain and wind and fog, it is spring here, It might not feel like it from time to time, but the garden is alive, stuff is growing everywhere. From the window upstairs, looking across the valley, it is so vibrant with the colour of spring growth. And on Sunday, the most certain sign of spring: the tree that is between us and the Dover Patrol Monument has now grown enough leaves as to obscure the monument, we will not see it again until the end of October at the earliest.

Elsewhere, everything is growing. What with the orchids, bluebells and the rest of spring, either in bloom or close. Its just that the wind is set in the east, and that takes the top off the temperature. It will warm up, probably very soon, and a nano-second later we Brits will complain about how hot and humid it is. Happens every year. It is light pretty much to eight in the evening, and the sun has risen before six in the morning now.