Marvel-lous

I snipped the deadheads off a few dahlias this morning and had to go in and lie down. God, these bugs take it out of you. Earlier I ordered 200 Nespresso capsules so I must be expecting to live for several months. That's 200 morning coffees, fewer if I have guests, but more if you count my new routine of going into Waitrose before CAB every Tuesday morning and having a free latte. I'm not sure if you have to buy something first or if your MyWaitrose cards gets you one automatically without shopping. I daren't ask in case I sound too cheapskate, and that's in spite of getting my John Lewis Mastercard annual statement the other day which shows I spent £10,000 plus on it in the last 12 months. But that includes all my spending, everywhere. Still ...

Even earlier I put six pairs of pyjamas in the washing machine - yes, six! - that I have worn in the past week, some of them more than once when they had dried on the end of the bedstead and could be reworn when I stumbled from my soaking bed in the middle of the night and grabbed at anything dry. Oh, the bliss of taking off cold wet clothes and getting all warm, wrapping yourself in a towel, turning the duvet over so the damp side is upwards on your non-existent partner's side of the bed and going back to sleep. In Angela's Ashes they were wet all the time, wet because it never stops raining in Limerick and even Terry Wogan who came from there complained that he couldn't remember a dry day from his childhood or schooldays. And wet because everything was damp and they'd get ill and there was no fire, no comfort to be found, very often no food, or never enough anyway. I don't dwell on these misery stories. I don't like them. But when I do encounter them I marvel that people survived these lives when I know I couldn't.

I fried up last night's potatoes and cabbage with a couple of eggs for my lunch - delicious. I finished it off with the chocolate surrounding some chocolate and ginger biscuits that I bought with my online order for when Nick is here. I rang Ruth at work after receiving a text message from her saying "Ring me at work", and when she answered the phone she couldn't remember the name of the antique shop she works at, and in her confusion I told her very grandly that I was looking for an antique and then told her she'd do. Silly, I know, but we got a fit of the giggles and couldn't speak for five minutes when she had to go as a customer came in. I still don't know what she wanted.