This weekend was exhausting but somehow rather relaxing.
Left London early on Saturday morning and drove down, listening to my audio book on the way. Wonderful way to travel, or at least, if you have to drive, it’s a good way to do it. Arrived, longing for a cup of coffee and to stretch my legs, to find the wash house an inch under water. Washing machine was leaking since weekend before last. Spent the first half an hour mopping the floor. A little drip can do a lot of damage in 14 days.
Tried to put up the new slate sign I had had made. Hadn’t really thought it through, so ended up spending an hour and half in the drizzle, supporting the quite heavy sign, while people drove past me, wondering what this strange new, obviously not local, woman was doing. In the end, gave up. Now the wall has two extra holes and no sign and some messy patches of glue. I have to find some way of putting it up. I don’t know how. The wall is so lumpy, with its great stones sticking out, that I can’t see how to get the sign to stick, ever. And why the hell does it have to be fixed with glue anyway? If I’d known that, I would never have bought it. What’s wrong with screws?
It must be love, love, love
Ended up feeling so cold and tired, that I was sure that I would get ill. Remedy: drive to Bridgwater and buy the most expensive hedge trimmer in stock at B&Q. (I love B&Q – they have EVERYTHING! I could spend a week in there, just buying washers and looking at the 20 or so different varieties of watering can: pink, green, purple, black, different shade of green, galvanised, 12-litre, six-litre, swivel spout, straight spout, indoor, outdoor, etc.)
Early night, listening to more audio book. Woke up a couple of chapters further on, wondering what I’d missed but since I’ve already read the book, it doesn’t matter. First time I’ve gone to bed in the light for many months. Felt like a child. Curious feeling of the world going on around you.
Big gardening day. Up at 6.30 to do some quiet, manual hedge trimming an hour later, followed by strimming, mechanical hedge trimming and mowing. Seven and a half hours. Definitely need to get a gardener. I can’t be doing this every weekend, or else I’ll never get out of the house to see anything else locally (apart from B&Q.) Could hardly move by teatime, yet still had to rush to my new love object, B&Q before early Sunday closing, to get a new tap for the water butt. I’d managed to dislodge the old one in my enthusiastic ivy clearing and water was leaking out, threatening to flood the woodshed. Couldn’t quite cope with both outbuildings being flooded on the same weekend.
Some small success, one large slug
Back to Spring Cottage to wonderful sunshine and found that new tap unnecessary after all once contents drained out, as fixing bolt on inside just dislodged by largest slug in the world (4 x 1 inches – definitely an Imperial, not a metric slug, mercifully now deceased.) but washer component of wasteful new purchase was useful at least – hey ho. Replaced it, by dangling headfirst into the butt but have fixed the problem (I hope). Also fixed the leaking water inlet pipe on the washing machine, so felt quite pleased with practical side ofthings, despite the exhaustion, since they have outweighed yesterday’s total useless signhanging episode. Shame the locals didn’t see my success.
Andy’s decorating is great. He’s done lots of painting but lots more still to do. The overall effect is much lighter and the place actually felt much more like home. Well, not like home home, but like my Spring Cottage. Dispiriting though to find everything covered with dust and the place needing more work to make habitable after having just about got it quasi straight. It does feel never-ending. A couple of tiny quibbles which I’ll callhim about in the morning. Although I hate saying: “missed a bit…”.
On the road
Still haven’t been to say hello to the neighbours, although waved at lots of the cars going by while I was cutting the hedge out on the road. Perhaps one of them had the neighbours in. Spoke to a posh-sounding man, who said he’d lived in London for four years and didn’t recommend it. Lives in Spaxton somewhere.
Got back to London rather late in the day but having decideed that feeling guilty about Girl revising alone all weekend was pointless.
Earlyish to bed with some Nurofen. Realised that I hadn’t given work the slightest thought all weekend. That’s progress.
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