2009 — 27 September: Sunday

Oops. Again it's after midnight. I'd better call it a day as I have to be up early enough to stuff my next exciting pot of crock, not to mention assemble a packed lunch and be at the agreed walking rendezvous in a timely fashion. It's all go... OK, time for an early picture of Christa:

Christa, with Mutti, at the North Sea, 1950s

It shows her on a boat (I deduce at the North Sea) with Mutti in the 1950s. Wish I'd known her back then, too.

G'night.

Nearly there

The pot is stuffed and starting to simmer. The breakfast is at hand, as is the cuppa. Even the packed lunch components are sorted. It's 09:09, sunny, but distinctly chilly out there. Time to eat...

How can it possibly be 32 years since Abigail's Party? Cringe, shudder.

I suspect...

... my sister-in-law in faraway New Zealandland thinks I eat nothing but crockpots. I have just reassured her. The weather for today's little 7 mile ramble around Horsbridge was just about as clement as it could have been. Topped off by a fizzy water in the "John O'Gaunt" (thanks, Gary) and a cuppa at Mike's before heading back here to the ranch. The car's windows are now much cleaner, and the vine is rather lighter, though I haven't yet worked out what to do with all the grapes that are currently soaking in the sink downstairs. I've also eaten my first home-grown pear of the year, and note that one of Christa's rose bushes has burst out into yet further splendid new blooms just in time for our 35th anniversary tomorrow.

Roll on pension day, as mine is the next evening birthday bash for the Gang of Four in, mercy me, just over two weeks time. Where on earth does this slippery Time stuff go? (Still, Christa wanted me to be happy and enjoy myself, with her or without her. I'm doing what I can, my love!)

Nearly time for the "Freak Zone". Definitely time for a quick shower, too. I have certain standards to maintain!

Almost forgot. We saw a barn owl — my first "in the wild". The idiots who'd disturbed it didn't even notice it, let alone what they'd done. It's 19:30 and I hafta say, my latest crockpot (with a late substitution of dead pig for dead lamb) is delicious. It's nearly time to get back aloft for the next carton or two of stuff. I'm enjoying this gentle de-cluttering, just as Christa enjoyed rationalising the kitchen (for both of us, I guess) a couple of years ago. Amazing woman. (I know, I'm biassed.)

Phew!

I've now (22:12) worked my way through every box of CDs up in the loft, sorting out a subset to bring down into the living room. This was all so much easier when Christa was around, not least because she knew where she'd put everything away up there, dammit. I'm now gasping for a cuppa, unsurprisingly...