Friday 1st April 2016

Thursday

As you may have noticed from yesterday's post(s) it was the end of the month. The end of March. From now on it will be spring all the way. Until summer comes round, which will then be followed by autumn. And so on.

On the daily check of bulbs and flowers, I find that slugs and/or snails had eaten most to the snake's head fritillery during the night. Bastards. I resort to chemical warfare, scattering pellets all around any tasty looking photogenic plants. Or fruit bushes. They will not have my gooseberries this year, I swears it.

I have three hours of meetings to start the day, not the best start, clearly. And needed coffee, I manage to make the second one of the day just in time, then force cocktail sticks into my eyeballs in a effort to stay awake. Jeez, people in a meeting without an agenda can't half ramble on. And on. At least I can sit in my own living room (as opposed to sitting in someone else's!) my mind wandering, wondering if it was lunchtime yet. Turns out it was just gone ten, and I was darn hungry.

I makes sandwiches, ham salad, which along with a large brew goes down well.

90 minutes later, I am hungry again. I mean real hungry. I search the larder and fridge for something that is not fruit. There is nothing. I remember, I made a lot of chilli last week; maybe I could defrost a small tub. I find one of the tubs, blast it in the microwave for 15 minutes, plate it up, mix it up. Now, what to drink? I see underneath the microwave, on the counter, is a bottle of wine with about a glass in it. Should I? Well, a glass won't hurt, heck its not even a full glass.

Turns out that the chili and wine went together very well indeed.

The wine did very little for my concentration, however. But like a trooper, I battle on. A trooper who had been at the grog, clearly, but still.

Late in the afternoon, I take myself and The Spy who Came in From the Cold into the warmth of the garden and read a couple of chapters, before going upstairs to do a session on the cross-trainer. I'll be honest, it would have been easy to not do the pumping lard bit, but after the wine it seemed only right.

After that, a shower to freshen up, and wait for Jools to come home, as we are off out for the evening.

Jools had been invited to attend a leaving party, a retirement party, for the owner/manager of the box factory. The potential of seeing many former colleagues clealry worried Jools, but then she decided to go and see what happened for respect for her former boss. Whilst she was at the party, what was I going to do? Well, you can drop me off at the Rack of Ale I said. Which is what happened.

It was quiet in The Rack, just a handful of us, but we had good conversation, sampled beer, sloe gin and rum. I was very merry when Jools came to pick up up, what to do for dinner; fancy a curry asked Jools? I think so.

We went to the curry house in Whitfield, ordered our main courses as we demolished the popudums. And pints of faux Indian beer. Or at least I did. Once we had full tums, Jools drove us home, and after making a fiss of the cats, and I posted some nonsense on Faceache, we went to bed, while I am sure I snored like a drunken Lord.