The colour of Sunday
Up at early and painted my green fence green. This was to cover some numpty tagger's purple addition. Needed a painting anyway, and it felt a virtuous way to start a Sunday.
Finished painting and stepped back to admire my handiwork. Cue old testament style clouds gathering overhead and I paused then to read the tin which said do not use if the weather is wet. Visions of the fence running onto the white wall beneath like green mascara, and passersby and neighbours gathering to point and laugh. Mercifully the rain held off.
Then painted the inside of my front door white. I will paint the outside blue shortly. Long chat with Mum, discussing plans and wheezes on our book project, she had also received the flowers I'd sent her too. Spent the afternoon pottering about listening to the audiobook (a mere two hours) of 84 Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff. Likeable stuff, and of course transatlantic dialogue quite resonant for me.
Made time for Bianca my white guitar too, and played for about an hour and a half.
In the evening had Janet around for supper. Ken is in Aix. This gave me an excuse to buy bramley apple pie (the king of pies) and various cheeses, olives, wine and so on. Talking about dancing, and Janet was telling me about the jiving she did as a kid. And the way she talked about old fashioned waltzing almost made me want to have a go at it. Janet also telling me stories of travelling around in the frontierish wilds of British Colombia as a young schools inspector, which she should simply write down. A one-teacher school with children from 5 upwards that she visited was run by a young and enthusiastic actress, who almost solely taught Shakespeare. Funny to think of kids surrounded by bears and snow and forests forging into the world armed only with a good working knowledge of Anthony and Cleopatra.
Walked Janet back home and noticed that someone had freshly scrawled over some of the white walls further down the Twitten. Came home and ate more apple pie, wondering if I should paint the inside of my door green.
Up at early and painted my green fence green. This was to cover some numpty tagger's purple addition. Needed a painting anyway, and it felt a virtuous way to start a Sunday.
Finished painting and stepped back to admire my handiwork. Cue old testament style clouds gathering overhead and I paused then to read the tin which said do not use if the weather is wet. Visions of the fence running onto the white wall beneath like green mascara, and passersby and neighbours gathering to point and laugh. Mercifully the rain held off.
Then painted the inside of my front door white. I will paint the outside blue shortly. Long chat with Mum, discussing plans and wheezes on our book project, she had also received the flowers I'd sent her too. Spent the afternoon pottering about listening to the audiobook (a mere two hours) of 84 Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff. Likeable stuff, and of course transatlantic dialogue quite resonant for me.
Made time for Bianca my white guitar too, and played for about an hour and a half.
In the evening had Janet around for supper. Ken is in Aix. This gave me an excuse to buy bramley apple pie (the king of pies) and various cheeses, olives, wine and so on. Talking about dancing, and Janet was telling me about the jiving she did as a kid. And the way she talked about old fashioned waltzing almost made me want to have a go at it. Janet also telling me stories of travelling around in the frontierish wilds of British Colombia as a young schools inspector, which she should simply write down. A one-teacher school with children from 5 upwards that she visited was run by a young and enthusiastic actress, who almost solely taught Shakespeare. Funny to think of kids surrounded by bears and snow and forests forging into the world armed only with a good working knowledge of Anthony and Cleopatra.
Walked Janet back home and noticed that someone had freshly scrawled over some of the white walls further down the Twitten. Came home and ate more apple pie, wondering if I should paint the inside of my door green.
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