The North Wind Doth Blow

It's cold enough for snow, especially when you're standing in the teeth of the wind. Absolutely bitter it has been for days, and seems set to continue until Saturday when it finally veers through an easterly to a more moderate westerly. Yet again the men were out in the field, pulling up the unwanted wheat. They must have been freezing. I ventured out to water my pond, or at least the wild flower seeds surrounding it, and then nipped back inside again where it was cosy and warm. Helen had booked a table at a restaurant in Aldeburgh for lunch at 12, but I knew it would be a mistake. Bridge starts at Leiston, five miles away, at 1.15, but players need to be there by 1pm so they know how many tables to set. I told her, I persuaded her to miss dessert, I chivvied her, but still we didn't get there until just after 1.10. Walking in to that crowded hall with everyone settled at their tables was an experience I do not want to repeat. I approached the director: "Mo," I said. "I know we're terribly late and if it's too much we can easily leave." But she wouldn't hear of it, and had us sorted in seconds. Not so some of the others who would tell you what to wear if they thought they'd get away with it. All of this brings the naughty schoolgirl out in Helen, and she stuck out her lower lip and her chest and gave as good as she got. Good for her: she's braver than me.

I came home via the council tip again where I deposited no fewer than 10 bags of stones, rocks, pieces of brick and nasty clumps of clay. It feels so good to get rid of this stuff. Val is coming tomorrow to help me clear some of the front beds. Everything is burgeoning wonderfully out there, but triffids are growing too and they have to go.

As the sun slowly slipped towards the horizon I found the remains of last night's bottle of wine, and was just about to take it to the summerhouse when I looked into the garden room. It was bathed in golden light, warm and welcoming. I took my glass in there instead and settled down with my holiday reading which I've picked up too soon and can't put down. It's M M Kaye's The Far Pavilions, a massive read which has completely engaged my interest, and if I'm not careful I'll have read it before I go away. What an erudite writer she was, so well read. I'd give my toe nails to have an ounce of her talent.