An early start, fitting around our carer’s own arrangements (zero complaints, we will take what care we can get and having her first thing means she comes to us clean and can leave us and head home for a shower before taking over from her husband for the day. It works. But nevertheless, an early start.
A sleepless night. Friends with CV. Our prime minister in intensive care. Not my choice of PM, but that is irrelevant; praying for a full and swift return to good health for him and for everyone else. We do not need a leadership contest and scrambling for power over the next few weeks.
Much swinging in the garden for my boy.
Much refusal to contemplate doing anything other than stare at a screen from my girl.
I escaped them both to set up a new wire lattice for our fig tree, aiming for a little more symmetry and hoping it won’t obscure the window. It’s got a fair way to go yet though.
Long term goals.
I do apologise for the formatting here; blogger dislikes my phone these days.
Mostly, a nothing much accomplished day today. Leftovers a-plenty so no cooking needed. One load of washing more of less processed. And Mr. Sainsbury kindly delivered us a big pile of food. Most excellently, he upgraded our Easter eggs from tiny hollow empty ones to extra mega huge ginormous beast ones. Less usefully, he decided that an acceptable substitution for 2x4 pints of blue milk would be 2x2 pints. Maths, anyone? So I can either wean D off half his nightly bottles (oh how I’d love to), or find a willing minion to top us up. And no yeast, no bread flour, and no dried fruit. So hot cross buns are going to be particularly challenging on Friday. I’m thinking hot cross cinnamon pancakes, thick, puffy, American style pancakes (although maybe not if D’s milk is rationed), studded with the raisins I do still have, with a gentle butter pat cross. Maybe. A won’t eat them whether they are hun or pancake, so maybe I’ll settle for toast and the promise of better things to come?
Tomorrow we have no plans. But we need to do something to make it different from today. We may attempt an Easter tree, or perhaps an Easter window.
For now though, rest. My window is open, but I hear nothing. No late night chats from people returning from the pub. No foreign language students propping up the fenceposts setting the world to rights. No cheers and waves of music from the football club. No cars, no motorbikes, no clank of bottles as the pub sorts recycling. It is the same silence of a heavy snowfall, but in the warmth of the Spring. Dislocating.