So then. It’s been a funny few days, with great ups and downs, but we’re getting over it now.
I have no idea whether or not Graham will return to his blog–when he does the strong silent act his silence is absolute. He is however grateful for all the good wishes and comments, that goes without saying. We shall have to see and, meantime, the best way to handle it is to leave it be.
Thanks, as always, for the support.
* * * * *
And now for the weather. Real weather. Of the rainy kind. You wouldn’t believe the rain we’ve had. No harm done, and it’s served to identify one roof gutter that’s not up to standard so there’s another job on the list.
Graham’s currently scrubbing, sanding and re-varnishing the solid wood doors. We were a little doubtful about the likely success of the operation–it’s a long time since either of us dealt with solid, plain panel doors–but the finished ones are glowing and filled with self satisfaction. Never seen a self-satisfied door? You haven’t lived.
Yesterday, before the kerfuffle, we went to Swansea for our Monday to Friday provisions and for a top-up of DIY supplies. I was on good form and delighted the little silver Ford by really putting my foot down to get round a traffic problem; I firmly believe that a petrol-engined car needs to be treated rough now and again to blow the grunge out.
Sadly, just as I thought the darned thing had finished, my winter cough is back. It doesn’t help at all to learn that several of my neighbours, as well as Graham’s mother, are experiencing exactly the same lingering symptoms, nor that the doctors are so unhelpfully blasé about it–”Tell me about it. I’ve been hacking away since last November.” I do suspect that the doomers and the gloomers are right and that it’s going to stick with us until May. Hey ho. Only another month to go, then.
St David’s day was a non-event in this little bit of Wales. I put a daffodil bloom in every window but didn’t see anyone else do the same. Shame that. Wales is supposed to have a great thing about daffodils but it looks as though Wordsworth and I are the only ones who take it seriously, and we’re neither of us Welsh.
And, life goes on. Dolly seems determined to sleep through the rainy spell and Graham and I aren’t too far behind. Sleep is good.
