An absolutely gorgeous day...birds were singing...bees were buzzing and I swear you can hear the plants growing...Himself was putting up shelves and walking the dogs and lugging a sideboard into my shed and I did a bit of painting...
You know...I ought to have had a bigger shed but then I suppose I'd still manage to cram too much into one if it was twenty feet long...
When Himself and I were first together we moved into a tied bungalow which went with Himself's new job. We had a bed each for my children and a bed for ourselves and a small gateleg table. And that was the sum total of our household belongings. That little bungalow seemed vast when it was totally bereft of furniture.
But new neighbours began to call to welcome us and obviously aghast at our lack of furniture, would return half-an-hour later with a chair or a bedside table...a cardboard box full of plates, a couple of saucepans...someone gave us a settee and another handed over a small working television...before the first week was out we had a furnished home. Absolutely no money, but we had a place to sit and saucepans to cook in and all was right with our world.
Maybe it is a deep-seated fear that I have, that somehow all we have now will simply disappear and we'll be left with nothing, that makes me hang on like grim death to objects and possessions.
Tom, next door to the left of us, is cleaning out his cow sheds...where his cattle have been since the beginning of November last year...I don't need to describe the smell to you do I...thought not. The minute the tractor and it's bucket go inside the shed, the smell worsens as each layer of shite is turned over and disturbed...I swear you can actually taste the putrid odour...
And it's also fertiliser spreading time so there has been a steady procession of tractors, long past their best, dragging little whizzy machines behind them that spin round very fast to spread the grassland feed as it's called...that doesn't smell though. It must have been very busy here in our street years ago when everyone spread lime from the local kilns using donkeys and carts...a few of the fields around us were used for growing oats and barley, which is hard to believe now...those tend to be the same fields which are now waist high in reeds and fit for nothing at all.
The lime wasn't used so much as a fertiliser...more as a sweetener for the soil which had been standing fallow during the winter months...it was plain old-fashioned well rotted muck from the farmyards which was used to enrich the soil.
Father had an old horse and a cart which he used for muck spreading...the horse walked up and down the field without being told to 'cos he knew what was expected of him...while Father stood on the heap of muck in the cart and threw forkfuls off...there must have been much more of a connection to the land and the seasons when work was slow and steady and not all rush to get it done with the latest equipment...
As it's Good Friday, and the tiny little bit of me which is still entrenched in Catholicism knows it's fish on Fridays and especially on Good Friday...we're having a fish supper from the chippy again...the second time within a month! There's living on the edge for you...