Garden Party

Woke at 6:45, no taxi duties today, so after a leisurely breakfast, wash, dress and drive to Cherry for nine to take the dogs out. They haven't seen me since Thursday, and as no one else let's them off the lead, they are delighted to see me. We make our way down Etton Road to the railway bridge and then walk along the Hudson Way for a mile or so before retracing our steps. It is a clear, bright and sunny day but that cold northerly wind is back, after the warmest March and the wettest April on record, this is shaping up as a cold May. The hawthorn trees are starting to blossom but the "may" is not yet fully out, so I'm still wearing a vest. I see a couple of familiar, dog walking faces, and chat briefly to them before making our way back. It hasn't rained since Friday, so I mow the lawns front and back at Two Riggs, it's been three weeks and the grass is long, so it's hard work. When it's done, drive into Hull and park at St Stephen's, before walking to the library to change my books. Strike gold, a new Barry Unsworth, the follow up to "Sacred Hunger", an Ian Rankin and a James Lee Burke, that I haven't already read. Afterwards eat a tea and scone in the library cafe before doing some shopping and driving home for two thirty. I feel surprisingly tired, and though I had been intending to run, decide to have a late lunch and read my book in the garden instead. The garden is in the lee of the wind and it's nice sat in the sun reading AS Byatt and munching a French Loaf with Camembert cheese, olives, sun dried tomatoes and a side salad. Of course such a lunch demands a glass of red wine and this turns into two. The Starlings that nest under my eaves are making a racket, I can see them with food in their beaks on the roof of the bungalow next door, they keep popping onto the guttering by their nest but don't go in. Then the penny drops, they can see me watching them, I adjust my seat so that I am facing the other way, and see them out of the corner of my eye bob under the eaves to feed their chicks. Once their racket stops my resident blackbird gives me a beautiful aria by way of a thank you. The incessant squalking must have been driving him nuts as well! By about four thirty, the fresh air, tiredness and wine conspire to force me to put my feet up for an hour. When I awake it's a quarter to seven, but the rest has refreshed me. After a drink of pop, make a batch of sultana oatcakes and a pot of tea and then settle down to read my book again. Swimming and running can wait another day.