Life goes on. Outside we seem to have lost, temporarily at least, the early summer heat wave. Today, and other days, it has tried to rain, often spasmodically, seldom for long. Today it tried a little harder with modest success, but whether the plants and the ground appreciated it it is hard to say. The luxuriant fields which were cut for silage in the spring and then got sprayed with sludge, never really recovered, and if there is to be another harvest of grass they will need a lot of rain over a good period of time. The weather is cooler which makes sleeping more likely.
Our Suzuki needed its annual MOT earlier this month. It disappeared into the garage, was there for a few days – always a sign that some repair needed doing or a new part needed fitting – and then returned home, minus a wheel disc. I reported this to the garage, who apologised handsomely – its only a bit of plastic trim, after all – and now we have, not just a replacement, but a whole new set of four – or so my OH tells me.
Some months ago our tall chimney shed some of its rendering. We enquired locally as to who might be a good man to contact to replace it, and after a longish delay, he came round to view it, but said it would be a job for the better weather. We were already experiencing very quiet, decent weather, more of it went by and no builder appeared so we said we would find someone else, which we have done. Another local man recommended by one of the tradesmen we use regularly. I have texted the man but so far my message has not been acknowledged, let alone answered. I suppose mending one fiddly old chimney is no big deal to a builder who could be making money on the building of extensions, but is an acknowledgement of the reception of a message too much to ask ?
The dishwasher has dishwashed, the washing machine has now started, so we shall have our daily meal to the accompaniment of splashing and sloshing.
My recent reading has included Beachcomber, a writer I remember from my childhood and youth. He appeared, if that is the right word, in the “Daily Express” in the days when it was a proper newspaper and not just the right wing rag it has become today. , I often wondered then just who he was. I know now that he was J B Morton and quite a character by all accounts. So I have been in court with Mr. Justice Cocklecarrot and his entanglements with the red dwarfs, reading of Captain Foulenough and his shady exploits and all the other Beachcomber characters like Dr. Strabismus (whom God preserve) of Utrecht.
