New this week: hobbies report:
Book: Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell by Susannah Clark. Exploring flowers in watercolour by Siriol Sherlock.
CD: Bert Jansch; Ella Fitzgerald sings the Gershwin songbook.
I am painting: a clematis.
I am singing: The Armed Man by Karl Jenkins.
Wednesday I spent the entire evening dealing with redcurrants. The tyranny of the garden. I picked 5lb of fruit and then washed and picked it over and weighed it out into 1lb freezer bags with 40z sugar. Told myself this is work I won't need to do later in the year when I want to make a dessert ..... pavlova, ice cream, creme brulee, crumble, cheesecake and what have you.
Tonight, spent more time picking fruit from our two redcurrant bushes and still there is plenty left in case I find I have an idle moment and have nothing better to do. Then in days to come there will be blackcurrants, strawberries, raspberries. When will I finish Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrel, I ask you?
What an idyllic sight we do make here this evening. All sitting on sofas watching Franco Zefferelli's (spelling?) Romeo and Juliet. (One of us is doing this for their GCSE). Even doggy might be listening - though her eyes are shut her ears never are.
We borrowed this DVD from Amazon and I have to say this system has really been a good thing for us. We've seen quite a few French films and one or two German ones too. (One of us is doing French and German GCSEs). I've got "House of Flying Daggers" next as I quite enjoyed Crouching /Hiding. Alwyn Crawshaw's water colour painting course was interesting and it was nice to see Dead of Night again without having to go to all the trouble of videoing it. And the best thing is that I don't have to actually own any of these DVDs and clutter my house up with them. If you are interested, it's £7.99 a month for 4 DVDs.
I had to move a load of eleven year olds out of the way coming back from the corner shop today. They seemingly would have liked me to divert my route off the pavement onto the wet grass verge to get round them but I insisted they move out of the way. They put me in mind of a dog who tries to assert some dominance by lying across the doorway. And another thing; I greeted them cordially and was met with a stony silence and sulky, menacing glares. I have noticed this with children from this age up. They walk past you in the street as if they don't know you from a bar of soap, whereas in the previous year they would have been perfectly happy to say hello. They are children from the school I work at, or friends of my children, or children of my friends. Good manners are so unfashionable. These youths need speaking to. And then they need to speak back.