A smorgasbord of a Saturday. (Saturday 15thJune)

We get up early again after a restless night, I made the mistake of eating a cheese and tomato sandwich before going to bed at eleven, not being hungry earlier, because of our late lunch. By way of compensation, it is  a sparkling morning, the strong sunshine reflecting from millions of raindrops, like so many diamonds, in the hedges and on the flowers. My garden blackbird is singing is head off and goldfinches are flitting and twittering in the bushes. Before seven, I have hung out a line of washing and had breakfast in the garden. Around eight, I phone Gino, with some more ideas about the things we discussed yesterday and then ring Felicity, to see if she is going to the Poppy Seed. She is and asks if I will walk her down to the Georgian Quarter exposition this morning, I say I will, but caution her from doing too much, as it is an extra quarter of a mile from there back to Albert Terrace and she struggled last week, just getting back from the Poppy Seed. She gets quite shirty and says I mustn't tell her what she can't do. Before setting off, I make a Caprese and put it in the refrigerator to cook until this evening and then shower and dress. There is just time to run through my Tai Chi exercises for ten minutes in the garden, before driving into town. I try to park down North Bar, so that the car is handy, in case Felicity runs out of steam visiting the Georgian Quarter, but there is also first communion for the children at Saint John's, and as a consequence, I have to park down Norfolk Street, almost on the Hurn. It takes a good fifteen minutes to walk Normy to the Poppy Seed from here, but it gives him ample time to deposit treasure and empty his bladder on the way. We arrive shortly after ten thirty, to find Jill, Hanne and Felicity at our usual table, the old girl is just polishing off a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, and luckily for Normy, has spilt some on the floor. Joy, Felicity's sister, arrives and sits next to me and Rosemary turns up ten minutes later. Joy tells me that Felicity's daughter, Melissa, is also coming and that she is taking Felicity home. Felicity is both angry and embarrassed when Joy tells me this, as she had made no mention of Melissa when she spoke to me earlier, although it was arranged yesterday. It seems she is only relaying bad news to her friends at the moment, perhaps to elicit more sympathy. There is a degree of hilarity, as various luminaries from the town keep popping into the cafe, in order to avoid the heavy showers, that seem to be occurring every quarter of an hour. The weather has its own view about the Georgian Quarter Exposition! Melissa arrives, around half past eleven and shows me the scar on her foot, where she had a large ganglion removed, but tells me that she is now able to walk perfectly normally, although, sensibly, she is wearing flat shoes for a change. During her convalescence, her brothers, Richard and Stuart, who both live over the Pennines, in Lancasire, have taken on the role of looking after their mum. Melissa has managed to park a little way down the road, right next to the exposition, which she wants to see as well, so I let her take her mum and Normy and I pop into the market to buy fruit and vegetables, before retracing our steps to Norfolk street, where we are limited to two hours parking. There are large puddles in the market and I have to guide Norman round them, but we manage to complete our shop and get back to the car, without getting soaked. I had meant to buy a cagoule in a bag from Boyes, as mine disappeared in Austria and another small umbrella, as I lost my little black one yesterday, when I was out with Gino. In showery weather, I take a little bum bag, in which I can store, the cagoule, a brolly and a hat, as well as a small tube of sun block. This way I am prepared for all eventualities. By the time we arrive home, just before one, both Norman and I are starving, so I make a three egg omelette and chop up some smoked salmon, which I sprinkle liberally, before folding it. I eat this with rye toast and accompany it with strong, black, Italian coffee. Norman has to make do with Bakers, but I let him have a few morsels of salmon as well. In between the showers, I manage to read another chapter of my book and then replace the inner tube of my bike's front wheel with a new one, before being driven indoors by another downpour. With nothing else to do, it is impossible to avoid doing some admin, so I take out one of the drawers of files from my old wall unit and refile all the correspondence into the filing drawer in the desk I bought from Leslie's daughter, Margaret. The empty green files in the desk drawer, still have the tabs with his file titles on them, so I have to replace these, one by one, as I set up my filing system, writing tabs, for bank, insurance, pension etc. etc. There are still two more drawers to do, but there are also lots more showers forecast. The job is neither difficult, nor tiring, but it is excruciatingly boring, although necessary, if my affairs are to be kept in order. Around four o'clock, I suddenly realise that Norman has no dog tins, so drive into town and park at Tesco's. Temporarily the weather is fine, so I walk through town to Boyes in order to buy another cagoule in a bag and a brolly. They only have cagoules in blue in my size, but fashion isn't the main consideration, my old one was green, but blue is OK too. As soon as I emerge from the store, the skies open and I erect my new umbrella and walk smugly past those poor souls caught in the open without one and now dashing for cover. As I cross Swaby's Yard, on my way back to the car, I pass the little Micro Pub, that is actually called Chequers, and decide to pop in for a half pint of their excellent Holderness Stout. In fact it was so good, they have sold out, but fortunately they have another milk stout instead, so I try that. It is also very acceptable, but not as good as the one yesterday. I ask to join a couple sat on a bench against the wall and they welcome me readily, soon they are telling me about a recent holiday in Oman and ask if I know where it is? " I ought to", I reply, " I spent six weeks patrolling it, from top to bottom in 1970 !" We then spend fifteen minutes chatting about the changes in Muscat, Ibri and Salallah. Finally I buy Norman's tins in Tesco's and drive home, arriving about six and feeding him, before settling down to my tomato and Mozarella salad, that has been cooking in the refrigerator since this morning, I eat it with a fresh baguette and a glass of the Cabernet Shiraz. Afterwards, I reply to an email from my sister in law, Liliane and then finally get up to date with my blog/journal. Catching up has been a bit of a love/hate process, necessity and compulsion. My sister, Jackie, has Facebook and I have this. I harbour delusions that, perhaps, my grandchildren will read it at some future date. Although watching Margaret dispose of Leslie's effects, has dispelled quite a few illusions. At least a digital archive is easier to dispose of than a paper one. It can be done with a single stoke of the keyboard! A comforting thought, perhaps I can now get on and finally finish my Patrick Gale book!