The Youngest of the Darling Daughters messages me to say that there is absolutely nothing I need to do, or to make, for tomorrow’s pre-birthday celebration. She and her sister (the Middle of the Darling Daughters)
have been to Tesco’s (other supermarkets would probably also do the business) and All Is Sorted. I can, therefore, simply relax and look forward to the fact that I will have several members of the family arriving to help me celebrate my birthday. A few
days early, but who’s complaining? Not me, for sure.
We hadn’t discussed any of this yesterday when the Y of the DDs phoned me for a chat. Apparently
over the course of our conversation (she had to ring off and call me again when she reached the magic hour during which calls are free) she walked 4,000 steps according to her Fitbit. Now there’s a thought for all you fitness fanatics, tracking your
performance step-wise. Ring your mother! You will keep her happy and, if you follow my daughter’s example by wandering all over the house while engaged in conversation, you can keep fit at the same time. You know it makes sense. I think maybe I should
write a self-help book about this kind of Dual Purpose Activity. I haven’t yet decided what to call it which doesn’t really matter that much as I will almost certainly lose interest in the whole project once I try to come up with other examples
for chapters 2, 3 and beyond.
Because I am not required to spend any time either at the shops or in the kitchen, I turn my attention to the garden. I went to bed
last night with a clear idea in my head as to the tasks which needed doing in order for my garden to look at its best for my visitors. To be honest, as long as the water butt is still dispensing water, the Trio will be happy - but I do need to remove all my
cuttings from the garden table and give it a good wash otherwise we will all find ourselves trying to sit at the little plastic table I bought for the Trio. Which wouldn’t be too good for my poor old knees. There’s the vegetable trough to be planted
up, too, and the patio needs a good sweep.
I think I am starting to sound like Monty Don, writing one of his “What to do in your garden in June”
articles. Though a little short on detail, you understand.
My trouble in the garden - as elsewhere, to be fair - is that I never know when to stop. Just
as I have the end of the garden nearest the house looking relatively tidy, I completely forget that basically that’s all I need to do and set off into the jungle that is the bottom of the garden. The chances that anyone will bother to venture that far
tomorrow afternoon (apart from the Trio who certainly won’t be checking on the Weed Situation) somehow doesn’t enter my head. I sally forth, intent on freeing the tamarisk tree from the stranglehold of the ivy which is clinging to its trunk. Yes,
it needs to be done -but, really, does it need to be done now?
I take a break to watch the Derby with Mr B. There is a horse called Our Rascal running and I am
as sure as sure can be that it is a lucky omen and he is bound to win. Mr B says if he were a betting man (what does he mean, if? Hasn’t he always been up for a wager?) then he would fancy Our Rascal. I put a five pound bet each way on Our Rascal and
settle down to watch him gallop over the fInishing line - which he does. Unfortunately there are five horses ahead of him. I must learn not to be seduced by the names of horses. Or greyhounds for that matter.
I return to the garden where there is nothing to lose and everything to gain. Tomorrow will be a lovely, lovely day.
willing to bet on that.