In which I am too tired to blog

Posted by Tania Kindersley.

In state of complete exhaustion (but for good, holy reasons, rather than sad, bad ones) so the day is reduced to some kind of virtual haiku:

The plumber arrives, and makes me open the Cupboard of Doom. This is very, very frightening. NO ONE HAS EVER SEEN THE CUPBOARD OF DOOM. But it’s a boiler necessity. We survey the terror. I say: it’s a good thing I can write, because no one would ever give me a housekeeping job. He laughs. He says, kindly: you could learn.

I’d quite like to tell you the lessons I learnt from the opening of the COD, but am too tired now. Perhaps tomorrow. What treats in store.

I do domestic activity, including the making of a soup. I give some to the poor plumber, because it’s the least I can do. You should see what he had to do with the boiler. He seemed slightly surprised, but quite pleased. He liked the soup.

While people drill and bash and make actual holes in the walls of my house (it’s a vent thing), I somehow do 1797 words of book. Can’t quite believe it. My head may fall off.

My friend Stephen sends me a tree. A TREE. (Sorry for too many capitals; exhaustion has removed all self-control.) Which I can plant in the earth. It is the sweetest thing imaginable. I plant it in the earth.

A Dear Reader sends me an incredibly lovely letter. I am deeply touched.

The rain falls, and falls, and falls. I suddenly realise it is midsummer day. Or the Longest Day. Or something. Here, it is all of twelve degrees. On account of the new boiler not yet being ready to go, I swaddle myself in shawls, like a Russian babushka.

The Pigeon continues to mend.

I spy a pied wagtail on the lawn, which makes me happy.

Did I mention my friend Stephen SENT ME A TREE?

Really am stopping now.

 

Too wet for the taking of photographs, so here are some from the past few days: