|The things that make a Sunday
||[Jul. 17th, 2016|10:26 pm]
Since we couldn't put it off any longer, we finished clearing our bedroom ready for the decorators. The bulk of the work had already been done, not least to allow preparatory work ahead of the decorators' arrival, and the last of the furniture can be left in the middle of room, and covered with a dust sheet - as long as the walls are clear and accessible, surely, that's all they need? To my own surprise, I managed to find (or empty) a few more boxes for the books from the bookcase - not quite enough, and the last shelf has been decanted onto the bookcase in the spare bedroom (which has not yet been refilled with its own proper books, because we are still considering improving the shelving supply in that room).
But I have sorted the clothes from the drawer under the bed. Some will be discarded as rags, but most have been bagged to go to the charity shop. It seems I was once a size 16, and if I had any recollection of this I would probably be more upset that it is no longer the case, nor likely to be. As it is, I'm feeling quite pleased that I appear to have lost the weight I inevitably put on during our Scottish holiday, but I have no ambitions to wear size 16 Rohan shorts. There's a grey cord skirt I'm sorry to say goodbye to, but how often do I wear a skirt, anyway?
By mid-afternoon, we'd done about as much as we could, so we went out to the open gardens event at the local allotments. We wandered around and admired things - including the contestants for 'best scarecrow' - and talked to people, and tasted the proferred strawberries and raspberries, and learned why you mustn't plant carrots on the upper slope of the allotments (it's close to a badger track, apparently, and badgers are very fond of carrots - also sweetcorn. They don't just nibble here and there, they dig up the entire crop with their strong forearms. And once you've attracted their attention, they don't give up. This may or may not be true, because, as the gardener who told us about it said, it wasn't something he wanted to put to the test).
It was a warm and sticky afternoon, so we came home and had a cup of tea - and found a message on the answerphone from the decorator saying sorry, he couldn't start tomorrow after all, he'll be here on Wednesday. Oh, well, we'll be ready for him.