Peachy

I was disappointed when Helen rang to say she couldn't play bridge as she is ill, but my feelings turned to joy and relief when I saw what sort of day it was going to be. Warm, sunny and windless, it was another spring day in early January. How much better to spend it outdoors than cooped up with a load of biddies spreading flu germs on the playing cards. I don't mean Helen here. She is not a biddy. She is a full ten years younger than me.

I had bought half a dozen paving slabs yesterday, and I was able to heave them out of the boot and walk them around to the passage between the garage and the oil tank. At the moment there is just shingle there, but it sticks to my muddy boots every time I walk through on my way to and from the compost heaps, so this will be a better solution. I laid four, but they were heavy and I'm trying to keep off the wet grass so I stopped there for today. It already looks very nice. The water butts were all very full so I attached hoses to them in turn and drained them into the field. I must get some more hose. What next? Oh yes, I cut back all the dead geraniums and crocosmia and took the rotten foliage away. I'm positively itching to weed the beds and rake them smooth, but it's all much too wet. It'll keep. After a while I started to ache a bit so I went down the garden and sat on my new bench gazing across the landscape. It truly was a peach of a day, so warm I had no jacket on. After a while I had to get moving again, so I set off on a good long walk still without my jacket. There was nobody around, nothing moved, silence was everywhere. Such bliss. And a dose of vitamin D to boot.

When I came home it was time for refreshments, so I cut myself a piece of rapidly dwindling Christmas cake to have with my tea. I told a woman at CAB yesterday how I am ekeing it out to make it last. "There is no such thing as a sliver of Christmas cake," she announced firmly. Earlier she had admired the report I wrote of a meeting we had jointly held with a client. "Your writing is beautiful," she said. "Very elegant, very prettily phrased." I grinned at her, amused, and she asked, "What job did you used to do?" I told her I had been a journalist, and she looked at me nonplussed, and then we both burst out laughing. Suddenly it just seemed funny. I read the report again and it was nothing special. Ah well.

The sun has gone down now but the sky is still pale blue and clear. It's just after 4pm but still nothing is moving outside. The school bus must have gone by, and soon the odd worker will pass on their way home. It suits me so well, this calm. In truth I love being alone with my thoughts and my occupations on days like this. If only it could always be thus.