Weathering the weather

We were remarkably lucky on Tuesday, in the end. The wind abated; the rains moved off to some other territory and we sat all day at our stall, undisturbed by weather problems. And we sold some copies of our Goldenford (www.goldenford.co.uk) books too; On the Edge by Esmé Ashford; The Moon’s Complexion by Irene Black; A Bottle of Plonk by me - and Pink Champagne and Apple Juice by Anne Brooke, all achieved sales. M came to the stall at the beginning of the day, to try to help us assemble a borrowed gazebo. What we really needed was a child who was good at puzzles, as we tried to work out, without instructions, how the centre piece fitted into four No. 3s; and how they fitted into 7s, and when we would put the rainproof cover on. We did not, in the end, succeed. We abandoned the whole endeavour and sat out in the open, hoping not to get rained upon. And our wishes prevailed.

Our next door neighbour selling brushes and similar stuff told M that he’d recently had an order from Waterstone’s for about thirty brooms. These are not the sort you’d buy in the housewares department of a department store, but ‘witches’ brooms – and they were purchased specially for the launch of a new Harry Potter. What a great story.

M disappeared early on, to buy a new boiler. I hoped, when I arrived home that it would all be completed, but in fact, he’d carried out some work for someone else, and it wasn’t started. Thus began several days of work for him and discomfort for me. Despite some sunny, spring weather, the house temperature has never been more than 60ºF (or 16ºC), except in some rooms at some times, when we’ve taken in an electric fire. The kitchen has benefited from periodic use of the oven and an over-use of the gas hob, as a quick way of warming up. The bathroom has been particularly cold, with no towel rail, and it’s been necessary to scoot to the bedroom and stand over the electric fire to dry off after a shower via immersion heated water, while absorbing the worst of it with a damp, cold towel.

It’s difficult to believe that we lived here for six whole months without any form of electricity or laid-on gas, the only heat being a log fire, in the sixties, as described in my book, The Fruit of the Tree. Then we had no immersion heater, just saucepans of water heated on a propane gas hob; our newly built house was damp throughout and we never even achieved 60º until mid-morning. How did I put up with it?

Today, after roof work, pipe work and electrical work, the boiler is working, but alas, only providing hot water. Some air needs bleeding from the system, but not at this moment, as rugby’s on.

After an evening out with M’s sister and family, last night, I felt quite sleepy today. Otherwise, I might have gone for a walk in the sunshine. Daffodils are out and our camellia has nine blossoms, which may not be a great number, but is better than in any other year. Is this to do with maturity or last year’s weather conditions? Can anyone enlighten me?