27th February 2011

Busy at my allotments, I have so far managed to transplant what remained of my sorry-looking autumn-sown broad beans from four rows into one. A harsh December had reduced them to a bedraggled handful, and even they looked like they were clinging to life out of spite. I painted the garden shed with sump oil, saved from servicing our cars (waste not, want not). I began the task under blue skies, but within ten minutes, it started to drizzle, and by the time I was done, it was pouring down. The shed is now protected from the elements and smells faintly of a lorry depot.

On a particularly rainy day at the allotment, I was beeped at by a fellow female plot holder parked by the entrance. Assuming she had something heavy to unload at her plot, I obligingly moved my car out of her way onto the road. Upon returning, I discovered she had merely parked next to her plot and sat inside until the rain stopped. Very annoying, and duly noted for the future.

My Welland Park allotment is now fully planted with vines, raspberries, blackcurrants, and gooseberries. In theory, this means the rest of the season should require little more than pruning until harvest time, leaving me free to focus on my other vegetable allotment. Fingers firmly crossed.

I’ve continued refereeing most Saturdays. My ageing muscles seem to cope far better with running around while blowing a whistle than they ever did with taking the bone-rattling knocks of actually playing.

Thursday, saw Sue and I in Dunchurch visiting Sue’s cousin Andrew and his wife for lunch. We spent a pleasant few hours chatting and looking at old family photographs, promising to return the visit in Harbury during the summer.

On Friday, Sue and I joined the Harborough Council Rambling Club for a day out at Calke Abbey. The leader gave us a choice of walks and, in a fit of misplaced enthusiasm, I let Sue decide. She chose the longest route in the morning and the longest in the afternoon. By the time we made it home, we were stiff, aching, and questioning our life choices, particularly as I had to referee the next day.

The week before, I’d been in handyman mode at Jamie’s apartment, assembling wardrobes and drawers, hanging a mirror and flat-screen TV, plus installing his washing machine (still unused, naturally). We hardly see him at Willow Bank now that Harley is on the scene. She celebrated a birthday this week.

The Rothwells seem to have settled into a steady rhythm. Ellis is growing quickly, and Lucas has begun swimming lessons with his dad. Sue took Lynne Keene to see Charlotte and the boys. It was lovely for Lynne to catch up with the once-little girl she’d childminded, now all grown up with children of her own.

Sarah has been on half-term, visiting Lee a couple of times, working at Savers, and revising in between.

Looking ahead, Sue and I have booked a hotel near Chester for March, with plans to visit my Welsh relatives and her Cheshire ones. It will give us something to look forward to, and hopefully, no one will suggest a 12-mile walk beforehand.