Laggng Behind the Joneses

The trouble with having the windows cleaned is that it shows up how dirty the insides are. It's insect poo mainly, but also the accumulation of moisture and dust in the air. Every time I've tackled the problem so far it has been very sunny, and they end up getting smeared. But I'm not asking for a dull day. Waking up to blue skies and sunshine, and enjoying the warmth and brightness, is far more valuable than clean windows. We've walked lots too, unable to stay indoors. Passing my lovely neighbour David on the lane the other afternoon as we headed off to the Woodland Trust, I stopped and asked him if he'd like to join us. He agreed instantly and hopped into the car. But walking with a stick as he does, I shouldn't have been surprised that he stopped every 20 meters or so to point something out and chat. He's a bookish man, and we always have lots to talk about. But by the time we got back to the car my feet were like blocks of ice. Lesson learned.

 Surfaces cleared, ready and waiting

Today my new work surfaces and sink are being fitted, and I was well prepared for the men when they arrived. All the surfaces cleared and wiped clean, the washing up done, dried and put away, the windowsills rubbed over with a damp cloth and the floor swept. It took less than half an hour, and begs the question yet again: why can I not do this on a routine basis? It's simple to accomplish, and satisfying. My forebears would have done it every day. I have to conclude that it's laziness, inertia, though this doesn't quite fit with my gigantic appetite for hard work in the garden, or the zeal with which I tackle the ironing minutes after it's come in from the line. Give me a garage or shed to clear out and I'll throw myself into the task without resting. Ask me to spring clean the summerhouse and I won't stop until it's completed, including all the windows inside and out, and underneath the furniture. The only time the house gets this sort of thorough attention is when I have people coming to stay, and thankfully that is happening this weekend. So the hoover has been hauled out of mothballs, and I've discovered a neatly folded pile of dusters from the last time I had a manic attack of domesticity and washed them all by hand. They had an emotional reunion with the polish. Very touching.

Penny and Roger couldn't have Hugo on Friday so I left him at home. For five hours he listened to Radio 4 and slept, and when I returned he was very pleased to see me but not at all stressed. It's a huge relief. We went straight down to Fram College grounds and he literally tore around the sports field at breakneck speed, not chasing anything but just for the fun of it. I made it more exciting for him by constantly changing my direction so he had to cover great distances to catch up with me but he was full of joie de vivre and it was a joy for me too to watch him. I'm sure the groundsmen will enjoy replacing any divots if necessary.

Hugging Harold, not posed by me

The Christmas cake. It's sides don't slope inwards - optical illusion