I woke at one o’clock and had something of a coughing fit,
but after that I dozed on and off until “er indoors TM”’s
alarm went off at half past seven. I got up, blew my nose until it bled, then
made toast.
As I scoffed I saw that there was a photo on one of
the Hastings-based Facebook groups that I follow that made me think. When I
first met “er indoors TM” her mother and stepfather ran the
Corner Café by the railway station in Hastings, and there was a photo of the
place. Quite a few people had posted memories of that café; no one I’d ever
heard of though.
Someone had posted a photo of his ticket for a “Sparks”
concert on one of their many fan pages. The ticket specifically stated: “Not
suitable for under-5s”. You have to wonder what sort of a society we have
where the patently obvious has to be so blatantly pointed out.
Despite the coughing I loaded the dogs into the car and we
set off to Kings Wood. As we drove the pundits on the radio were talking about
instances in which your life changes in a moment. They wheeled on some woman
whose life had done just that, but ironically after two miles of driving they
were still droning on such a long-winded introduction that I turned the radio
off and sang along to Ivor Biggun instead.
Just as I got to the woods I had a message. “Daddy’s Little Angel TM”
was distraught as “Darcie Waa Waa TM” had been shitting black
and blue (quite literally) and she was trying to get an urgent doctor’s
appointment.
Five minutes later she messaged asking if I thought that the ten thousand
blueberries my favourite youngest granddaughter had eaten yesterday might have
had some bearing on her dung.
We walked round the top of the woods today. I found two
more final locations for geocaches. Treacle found the mud. She really is a
swamp monster; if there is muddy water, she is in it. I blame the spaniel part
of her heritage (she’s half spaniel).
We had a shorter walk than usual today; as we came back to
the car we met Sam and Lyn who were off Wherigo-ing. It was good to catch up.
Once home I popped to the corner shop for supplies.
Specifically something to blow my nose into. Having eco-friendly bogroll
delivered once a month is all very well all the time I’m not blowing my nose
through it like a thing possessed. Bearing in mind what the stuff is used for I
got the Happy Shopper stuff at half the price of the posh brand.
I would have got some boot polish if they had any, but I
was the first person to ask for it in the memory of anyone in the shop. I got
some pastries instead. Once we’d scoffed them with a cuppa I went and had a
look at the pond.
I felt grim, but I made a decision. I could sulk, or I
could crack on and see what happened. I heaved Neptune out of the way, and
raked up loads of shingle so’s I could get to ground level. Taking great care
not to slash myself I used a Stanley knife to cut the weed-proof membrane then
got digging. I excavated a hole big enough for the large bucket in which the
pressure filter would sit.
My plan for the day involved me getting that far, then
wasting the afternoon watching episodes of “Four In A Bed”, but finding
that I had perked up somewhat I cracked on. In a novel break with tradition I
read the instructions of the pressure filter and decided to see if I could get
the thing in place. First of all the old filter boxes came out, I re-plumbed
the hoses from the pond pumps so both would feed into the new filter. I bodged
the now redundant second in-pipe to become an out-pipe, tightened up all the
jubilee clips and turned it all on.
I’m reluctant to tempt fate here, but I will say I’ve had
far less successful turn-on of pond filters. There’s a minor issue with the electrics,
but that can keep till another time.
I then raked shingle back to from where I’d raked it
earlier, and then got out my spirit level (“My Boy TM”
would be so proud of me!). I organized a flat area and heaved Neptune
back into place. I then heaved the garden rocks about to make it all look
rather scenic.
“My Boy TM” then arrived to help me move my soil
bin. This morning I had a dustbin half-filled with soil. The soil from the hole
I dug had gone into the bin and filled it, and I couldn’t move it. Together we
shifted it.
Whilst I was in the garden I started mowing the lawn… then stopped
and frog-marched Morgan inside. He simply would *not* stop attacking the
lawnmower.
I looked at the filters I’d taken out and decided against cleaning
them today. I wasn’t on top form and I’d already spent five hours in the garden
making it look substantially the same as when I’d started.
I shall clean the filters another day and then see if I can
sell them. They are only a year old and the ultraviolet bulbs are only a couple
of weeks old. Sell them… or swap them for ornamental garden rocks.
“er indoors TM” sorted a rather good
bit of dinner which we scoffed whilst watching this week’s episode of “Celebrity
Hunted” in which so-called celebrities really did seem to be trying their
hardest to make themselves obvious to those hunting them.
Mind you, it is easy to be disparaging from the comfort of
my sofa. I wonder how I go about applying to go on that show?
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