The Kings Seed catalogue is late! As tomorrow marks five years since I began blogging, I've been looking back at those earliest posts (from my first blog) and it turns out that at this time in July of 2007, I'd received my Kings Seed catalogue, salivated over every page and written and rewritten my shopping list a squillion times and sent the order off.
This year the catalogue is delayed, apparently, but nevertheless I did get into the garden yesterday. I buried the hedgehog, who had been dead and smelly for some time, but the weather and the busyness meant I'd forgotten about it. I weeded a bit, planted some polyanthus, some iceland poppies and sowed some broad beans. I transplanted the naked ladies from Mary K's garden which have been patiently waiting in a bucket for weeks. Frankly, it wasn't nearly as much gardening as I longed to do, but small pleasures are still pleasures.
FH is sick, which means I have to turn into super-person. Like Cinderella, I was up before dawn this morning, lighting the fire, making the breakfast and the lunches. I went to work for money and then I went erranding and shopping and then I came home and cooked dinner and organised the children for homework and bed. Now I am in a zombie state, part of me concerned for FH's health in the bigger picture, and the other part merely longing for him to return to sufficient good health to resume his role as the nightly washer of the dishes. Maybe Cinderella married for better or worse, in sickness and in health too.
It's the gala on Saturday. Perhaps I shouldn't bake for it after all in case I bake FH's flu germs into the cakes.
Really, can the world exactly turn upside down if the dishes remain untouched this evening? Probably a bit disastrous in the morning, but going to bed and starting Goodbye Sarajevo seems a better idea.
Latest deal with myself: if I empty the dishwasher, then I can leave the rest and go to bed.... g'night.