Stoopid

You really couldn't make it up. My replacement pump arrived and so I set about fitting the plug from the old one. This done, I popped it in the pond, switched on, waited for the water to surge out, nothing. I checked the extension cable was working: affirmative. So I took the pond back into the house, changed the fuse, and tried again, this time in the kitchen sink. Nada. Maybe the new fuse was also kaput I thought, so I tried a brand new one. Still nothing. Furiously cursing the company for sending me two useless pumps, I happened to glance inside the open old plug. The wiring was different. I had only wired up the new plug wrongly. Now I have to say this was a scary moment, by no means unique. How could I have forgotten that the yellow/green one is not live but earth? And that the brown one that is the colour of earth is in fact live? When I finally rearranged the wiring and switched the pump back on a huge jet of water erupted from the sink all over everything, me included. That should learn me. I was reminded of when Kitty was a young teenager, and had a television in her bedroom. Every night while she was in the bathroom I took the fuse out of the plug so that she wouldn't stay awake watching unsuitable programmes, and she never cottoned on. I should think she could teach me a thing or two about DIY nowadays.

It was a beautiful day, warm, sunny and springlike. As I fell asleep last night I planned what I would do today, and it included hoovering the house and cleaning the kitchen floor, plus much Italian study. But how can you cock a snook at a day like that? I went out with the properly wired pump, and immediately got so distracted that the pond was half empty when I looked again. Luckily for me the pump was still submerged or it would have really been kaput. Quite quickly I had filled the wheelbarrow with dead and unwanted detritus from the front garden, tufts of sprouting grass coming up from the wet ground with only the slightest tug, and the tall, floppy leaves of the red hot pokers surrendering to the secateurs. I worked on until my gluteal muscles threatened to seize up. It looks a lot clearer now. With so much new life sprouting in the garden there's a danger of thinking the worst of the winter is over, but I think there's much more to come. But we're nearly at the end of January, serious progress. I can remember one year, a long time ago, thinking I simply could not endure another January with its short dark days and depressing gloom. But so far this one has been a doddle.