In praise of simple things.... and fear of mouldy ones

Well, now, what a difference a few days makes! Stability - of a sort - returned to the Fereday household on Friday when I got confirmation that I had a job. Writers often use the expression (or variant thereof) that "the relief was palpable"....now, I'd not really understood this until Friday evening....if we take the definition of 'palpable' as capable of being touched, then I can confidently confirm that relief feels like holding a full champagne saucer.... And for the LJN wine buffs... we do have some flutes, but we use the saucers when the fizzy is of an older, less dry style - well, that's the excuse I'm going with.... it's absolutely nothing to do with the fact that each saucer holds just over a quarter of a bottle.... no siree, nothing to do with that at all.... hic!Of course, Friday's events were bound to throw the subsequent few days into chaos.... we bimbled over to Leeds on Saturday for lunch with best buddie and mentor extraordinaire Sandra. Fereday cut and edged the lawn while we were there (well, if you're going to travel with a gardener.....). Meanwhile I sat in the courtyard with Sandra receiving wise council on everything from pension arrangements through work/life balance and smoking (remember to flick the ash, dear, or it will get on your tee-shirt) to getting my hair cut.... full-service, holistic mentoring!We were too enfeebled (and that's not another term for 'tired and emotional', just in case anyone was wondering) on Saturday evening to go to see the Canterbury Tales at Shibden Hall Park, so gave the tickets to our neighbours - who actually haven't spoken to us since, I've just realised.... crumbs, wonder if the Wife of Bath got a bit too risque??? Anyway, I'd bought the tickets ages ago, and while we were intrigued that it was to be 'perambulatory' (seriously, Fereday rang to see if picnics were allowable, and was told that as it was a 'perambulatory event', picnics weren't really suitable), after Friday any intentions towards improving our cultural sensitivities in a perambulatory manner were out the proverbial window. But, 'perambulatory'... eh?... still, the mental image of actors being pushed around in oversized baby buggies at twilight is probably more provoking in a 'Turner prize nightmare' kind of way than actually going to the show would have been.... As usual, I digress....Monday rolled around and, despite technically being on holiday for the week, I was booking us a run down to London for the Wednesday - me to a meeting, Fereday taking the opportunity to scoot off to Hampton Court for a run around the flower show.Wandering up past St Paul's, one of the gardeners was weeding away in the flower beds and being scrupulously photographed by tourists - odd, though I suppose if I went to Beijing or Quebec or Jakarta, I would probably be taking pictures of everything and everyone, so I shouldn't really comment.... 'Tourist' shouldn't really be used to describe a person, it should be understood as describing a mental state which is flicked on like a switch the second we're let off the leash from work and home and given a camera..... we take pictures of stuff we're looking at while we're there looking at it, or more likely not looking at it because we're zooming in or out or changing the light setting, etc .... we get the pictures home and never look at them again.... until we're wiping them off the camera to make room for the next holiday's snaps.... I used to always like those pictures that people took in the old days of 35mm film cameras where you held up two photos to get a panoramic view.... I wonder if anyone has ever done the Great Wall of China that way or even Hadrian's Wall... Gawds, how many photos would you need... and how long would your arms have to be to hold them all up and look.... you might need a really long hall to post them up with blue tack....Anyway, Fereday really enjoyed his quick run around Hampton Court accompanied by our friend Alwine - both were bemused by some chappie commenting officiously to his companion about 'the sub-tropical planting' of a typical, English cottage garden scheme .... and wandered away while the chap's aforementioned companion nodded sagely at the assessment....He was really chuffed to meet up with Jill from Perfumed Garden and was doubly chuffed to learn of the GOLD MEDAL - wooo hooo!!!! I was doubly dechuffed to have both missed Hampton Court and meeting up with LJN bretheren (or sister-ren?).We ended up Wednesday at the Albion Pub in Islington where the most beautiful thing in the whole world happened.......no, not a sighting of Brangelina or Mother Theresa's spirit presence or Nelson Mandela or a myriad of things which would be wonderful to many people, but something much more mundane - and more special for its simplicity and primitiveness.... I ordered a burger and they asked me how I wanted it cooked!!!!! I don't often order a burger, but it has been years (and on the other side of the Atlantic) since someone asked me how I wanted a burger cooked.... and when it came out, oh wow, it was pink and just the right amount of bloody to moisten, but not disintegrate, the bun. Absolute bliss! If there are any veggies out there ready to anonymously post me an ear of corn(!), you should take comfort that last Friday I ordered a sandwich in a local cafe and, after biting into it, realised the bread was mouldy, really very mouldy, blue mouldy.... so this lovely, carnivore-satiating little bit of heaven in a burger was my karmic payback for the mouldy meatball pannini.So, now we're back in 'fax, and it's Fereday's birthday tomorrow, well actually, today as I'm typing this after midnight.... I still haven't found the birthday card that I squirrelled away so he wouldn't come across it.... but the presents are wrapped, and I've let him watch The Italian Job and Shaolin Soccer (don't ask).... We're planning on working in our own garden tomorrow.... for a change!

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In praise of simple things.... and fear of mouldy ones

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