On the way home from Hannah’s we stopped in at Season’s Garden Centre. A new business that’s recently appeared (after years of watching construction and wondering what was coming!), between Chatteris and Somersham.
But they do at least show some intent!
I bought five daffodil bulb sets. Every year as the daffodils come out I long for more at home, in our garden. And slowly I’ve been adding to our meagre stock. But it seems to be taking forever!
My attempts with umbellifers, or cow parsley type plants, are faring even worse! Only the stuff nature plants flourishes. The two seed sets I’ve bought have yielded naught, alas.
These King Alfred are, I think, a bit bigger.
I got four sets of cheaper generic narcissi, and one of a larger more expensive King Alfred variety. There are probably a similar quantity of pre-established daff’s in this particular border.
These are amongst the few from previous years.
We don’t know what the little purple multi-flowers are. We’ll have to Google image search ‘em, I guess. Which Teresa has just done… grape hyacinths, apparently! Or muscari armeniacum!
I planted five new bulb sets today.
Believe it or not this long thin flower bed has actually already been weeded a couple of times since xmas! Still haven’t mowed any lawn. Reckon I’ll wait till it gets a bit warmer first. Mind, it’s warmer outside right now than it is inside our home!
If I could afford it, which of course I can’t, I’d have a thorough massage once a week. Particularly the back, and especially the lower (cervical?) area, and the neck and shoulders. Classic stress loci.
But whilst I can occasionally persuade Teresa to give me a few minutes of back massage, in the main I’m reliant on other stuff for relaxation. Self-medicating with booze works, for sure. But isn’t the healthiest way.
The results are immediately tangible.
Chester, our delightful and, of late, not so wee moggie, can be a real blessing. Today, like yesterday, I plan to spend as much time as poss’ resting in bed. And about 20 minutes ago he popped in, from one of his regular jaunts outside. The little darling came straight up to me and went straight into face rubbing. Which I adore.
Trump watching Higgins at work.
Another almost cast iron sure fire way I’ve found to relax is watching (good) snooker. For some reason it has to be players I find engaging, playing very well. Anything less, and it doesn’t work. Todays snooker menu consists of the gargantuan feast that is Trump vs. Higgins, 2019 World Championship.
Over eight hours of two of the greatest playing superbly. Although John Higgins is undoubtedly brilliant, he’s not one of the players I’m drawn to. For some reason (my artistic aesthetic side?) I like guys like Trump, O’Sullivan, Selby, etc. They play superbly, and look great doing it. Higgins looks like an accountant or a bank clerk!
Trump in killer shark mode, nailed eight frames in a row!
Trump played so phenomenally well in this match, particularly one session – which Steve Davis aptly described as ‘brutal’, and ‘controlled annihilation’! – that it really was one of the best snooker finals one could hope to watch.
And, as Stephen Hendry commented, these longer matches bring something the shorter formats just can’t deliver. Epic! And yet also soothing…
Today was a terrifically relaxing Sunday, after a rather odd Saturday (about the latter*; least said, soonest mended!).
What a funny boy!
For once we actually got properly stuck in to doing next to nothing. And boy was it worth it! It’s actually incredibly hard to really stop and do very little. Modern life has this way of making one feel permanently plugged in to myriad little chores and worries.
Of course we didn’t literally do absolutely nothing. It was Chinese New Year, so we had a Chinese meal, partly from the local takeaway, and partly home cooked. We ate at the dining table. A rare event! Mainly because it’s usually overloaded with detritus.
The Sunday Scrabble board.
We also played our usual game of Sunday afternoon Scrabble, after taking some turns on Crash Bandicoot 2, on my ancient but still functioning PS1. Whilst playing Scrabble we watched The Fast Lady, starring Stanley Baxter, James Robertson Justice, Leslie Phillips and Julie Christie. Goodness me, Christie really was something!
What a great poster!**
I think we must’ve watched this movie before? Either that, or it’s almost identical to another we’ve seen!? The weird thing is that I have memories of watching a film with almost exactly the same plot (and possibly even the same actors?) but in black and white, not colour. And with a different car at the centre of the action. A car with all kinds of weird pipes coming out of the engine? Or am I conflating two different films into one? But of a mystery either way!
Screen blankets…… prevent frosting.
And talking about cars: my Mazda needs these protective window doodads Teresa bought me, which keep the two main screens frost-free. And I’ve also been putting a blanket in the boot, to wrap up the battery, and prevent it causing no-starts!
-3° according to my iPhone weather app.
* This little asterisked note is a much later (23/3/‘23) addition to this post; only much later – the gravity of the situation at the time eluded me – have I come to realise what a complete effin’ nightmare might ensue from my getting thrown out of our local ‘Spoons, aka The Hippodrome.
Teresa and I used to be model customers, and regular patrons. Not because of Tim the Twat’s appalling politics, or the enlightened way in which he runs his business, but because it was just good enough on the cost/benefit scales, when it came to eating out as an occasional treat, to work well for us.
I am now a leper pariah, barred entrance!
A sporran affair: ‘Och, worra lassie!‘
** If misleading: Leslie Phillips, his babes, and JRJ all really take a back seat to the two stars missing from this poster, Baxter & Christie!
I knew it! Or, rather, it’s what I wanted to believe. And, in all honesty, this study seems so small as to be of questionable scientific merit. But it’s in line with my confirmation bias, so I’m running with it!
Anyway, I doubt anything would stop Teresa and I chatting in our baby-ish ways with our cats. We did it with Tigger, now we’re doing it with Chester. It’s natural! We love it. And, so it seems, so does he.
I was talking to a long term pal I haven’t seen in way too long last night – hi Tim! – who mentioned that his son was getting into fine dining. I’ve seen some of Sam’s posts on FB, on foodie stuff. And the food, indeed, the whole experience, looks great!
Mmm… that was tasty!
Tragically, as things currently stand, we have neither the funds nor the connections – for starters March, where we live, is not known for its epicurean eateries – to mange in that manner. At least not at present.
A darn thick root!
But I have been indulging in eating out more than my wallet can really stretch to, as a reward to myself for the labouring work I’ve been doing in house and garden. Or is it just out of laziness!?
Excavated and hacked out wi’ an axe.
Plans for the current Easter break include putting in the form-work for the concrete shed base (aka drum bunker ceiling/roof). And that in turn entailed finishing the excavation I’d already mostly got done out in the ‘back yard’, as our former colonial cousins have it.
Dismembered and earth filled back in.
At this stage that mostly involves removing a large thick tree root, and levelling the earth as best I can. I did both today. Hacking the root out with a tiny ace was hard work! I had a larger axe. But leaving that out in all weathers has proven unwise; the head came orff recently, in an alarming manner.
Raked, sifted for stones/roots, and levelled.
With the big root gone, I used a large spirit levels to see how flat the whole thing is. To my great surprise and happiness, it’s a lot better than I thought it’d be. It’s definitely not calm lagoon flat. But it’s probably not too far off workable.
But back to matters edible… I was tempted to go to the local pub for an all day breakfast, or – as Count Arthur would be pleased to hear – what they’ve taken to calling all day brunch. But I resisted this beckoning, and instead cooked up what you see at the top of this post.
My lunch time companion.
I’m pretty sure supermarket bacon suppliers put water in their bacon. Which I find really irksome. it changes how it cooks. Anyway, butter was employed liberally, and everything cooked together – introduced at timely moments, natch’ – and came out proper tasty.
So, please feel free to rate my plate. Washed down with a coffee, I was mighty pleased with myself!
Ouch!!! Red in tooth and claw, Mother Nature in the raw…
Our beloved pussy cat, Chester, attacked me savagely yesterday. Only now, the following day, am I really starting to get over the shock and process it.
I had to go to the local minor injuries hospital unit, for a tetanus jab, a script for some penicillin, and to have the wounds checked, cleaned, etc. The worst of the three areas of wounds – all claw scratches except for this one – was a big and deep bite to my fright fore-arm.
Chester hasn’t been neutered yet, and the vets reckon it might be due to him getting frisky, picking up the scent of local lady felines, and then objecting strenuously to me taking him back indoors. He’s been caterwauling aplenty recently. Even hissing a bit when picked up to be taken back home.
Left hand; lesser lacerations!
But his all out frenzied attack yesterday was a proper shock!
I didn’t get any pics of the profuse effusion of blood. Kind of wish I had. As all that remains now are rather pathetically inconsequential looking plasters. But I’m told not to be complacent, as infections from cat bites can be nasty!
I’ve had cats around most of my life. The better part of my now half-century. Never had an experience even close to this before. Bit of a shock to the system!
