5th March 2011

The week was cold, miserable, and thoroughly uninspiring, the sort of weather that seeps into your bones and refuses to leave. My allotments remained off-limits except for an hour spent painting the shed with sump oil. The last fifteen minutes were done in a steady drizzle, so the roof remains untreated, awaiting a mythical “drier day”.

One evening, I went to Rothwell to measure up for some stairgates for Charlotte. One staircase turned out to be wider than expected, so I fashioned a support post before fitting. Naturally, events conspired to delay installation, but I remain optimistic it will eventually fit.

The Rugby Club’s annual May Bank Holiday Sevens competition is approaching. In years gone by, I’ve helped by refereeing, but Sevens Rugby is now far too fast for my legs. This year, I’ve volunteered for the sub-committee running a parallel Beer Festival. It may involve the rigorous task of “sampling” a few ales, but I’m prepared to make that sacrifice, and my body will certainly ache less the next day. Our inaugural meeting was held at the Sugar Loaf pub, which felt entirely appropriate.

Jamie is increasingly elusive, appearing only to use my computer or phone. This week, he paid his TV licence and electricity bill, then texted Sue in outrage that the apartment maintenance bill had risen by £11 (he didn’t clarify whether this was per week or month). A parcel also arrived containing heavy-duty car springs, which Jamie claims are for a friend lowering his suspension. I’m hoping that’s true; otherwise, he may soon be cruising Harborough in a vehicle that scrapes over crisp packets.

Sarah divides her time between school, Rothwell, work at Savers, and her bedroom. We usually only get to see her in the mornings. She has an interview at Sheffield University in a fortnight, so I’ll accompany her and take the opportunity to visit Nan.

Sue managed only a couple of half-days at school and, like me, has spent the week looking out at the dreary weather, me grumbling about not being able to garden, her lamenting that she can’t dry the washing.

But Friday, the 4th, brought a change, both in scenery and spirits. We rose at 5:45 am, walked to the station, and met Jim and Kate for a day trip to Cardiff. By some miracle, it turned out to be the brightest, sunniest, and warmest day of the winter so far. Our special steam train wound its way through central Wales, past spectacular scenery, pausing in Llandrindod Wells for a 20-minute market stop. Jim and I displayed our romantic flair by buying the ladies face flannels emblazoned with Welsh dragons, 50p apiece from a street market stall. They were met with polite indifference, but as I always say, it’s the thought that counts (and you can’t get more thought for under a pound).

We lunched at Nando’s in Cardiff, glanced at the castle, and paid our respects to the Millennium Rugby Stadium before heading home via London, arriving back in a frosty Harborough at 10:55 pm. A full and thoroughly enjoyable day, and fittingly, my birthday.