When I went down for breakfast later I found a new batch of oatcakes on the side - thanks, Dave - and the cook in boiler suit and wellies exiting the back door to have a bonfire. So I sat and ate breakfast in the kitchen and watched the bonfire progress through the window for twenty minutes, too tired to move.
Eventually I went back upstairs and showered and dressed and donned jacket and wellies to go outside to admire the bonfire close-up, and it was such a lovely mild day I started tidying up the strawberry patch (that Dave keeps demanding we scrap right now and I keep resisting, saying, 'No let's just give it one more season.') That was a pleasant half an hour. I hadn't finished, but my hands were cold so I came back in and made a coffee and by that time the paper had arrived so I sat on the sofa with my feet up, reading the Review section, too tired to do anything else.
I don't know why I'm tired. There were only four events in the diary this week - seeing a live screening of Oscar Wilde's A Woman of No Importance from the Vaudeville Theatre in London - terrific acting, but I was not sold on the play; a curry with friends; my sax lesson; and an inset day spent with my older grandson who is now 13, and whose name and photo I am no longer allowed to post, but long-time readers will know who I mean.
The day was lovely. We went into Sheffield on the bus and saw an exhibition of Ravilious and his associates, and my companion looked at them carefully and had lots to say.
HMS Ark Royal by Eric Ravilious |
I can't recall a gallery visit I have enjoyed as much, unless it was the visits I used to make years ago with my father to Askrigg village hall to see the annual exhibition of Wensleydale artists. He would be chuffed to bits that his great-grandson has an artist's eye, and talent too.
Bolton Castle, Wensleydale, in December |
We had a hot pasty and did bits of shopping in John Lewis - buying Christmas presents for Lux and Cece, and checking out the functions of Fitbits (as you do.) I even got the price and spec of a telly, because I'm thinking of getting one. At present we have a huge, box-like 20 year old monstrosity that is not digital and is only fit for watching DVDs.
You can tell I'm tired, can't you, by the pedestrian nature of the above?
The good news is that the rewrite of the novel is coming along. One of the things I've changed is the main male character. I've made him nesh, and I'm liking him so much better. I hope you will too.
4 comments:
Sue, I’ve no idea what nesh means so I googled it and came up with ‘being unusually susceptible to cold weather’ or ‘weak, delicate and feeble. Which is it?
In this particular case it means susceptible to cold weather and harsh conditions. he was a toughie before.
I too had to scuttle off to google.
Interesting turn, your character has taken.
Isn’t there some research into men and women’s different tolerance levels for cold?
Every ‘bloke’ I’ve ever known has moaned about the heat just as I’m warming up.
Except for Kevin McLeod from Grand Designs. I was interested to hear he keeps a scarf/cravat about him even in clement weather - as he is ‘susceptible to a cold neck,’ I remember thinking that must be to do with his arty side.
see my next post.
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