28th October 2013

Not having written a blog since my return from Bulgaria, through an atrocious storm, it’s now a British storm prompting me to put fingers to keyboard once again. Plus, with Sue in bed for the past two days with a tummy and chest bug, and another morning painting the garage ceiling wearing thin, I thought it was a good moment to write.

Still in “Bulgarian work mode,” I naively thought brightening up the garage with a fresh coat of ceiling paint would be straightforward. What a mistake! Seven mornings in, countless tins of paint have disappeared into the rafters. Though I completed the final coat today, disappointingly, it really needs yet another layer (though my sanity will keep me from it!), and I still need to tackle the thirstier spaces in between the beams. Fingers crossed it’s all finished before 2015!

Life has returned to normal at the Palmer household. Curry nights are back, much to Charlotte’s delight, and there’s nothing like that familiar warmth of a good British biryani to make everything feel right in the world.

With Nan’s house now sold, I’ve been busy notifying various people and companies about the change of ownership and cancelling direct debits. Nan even received a £5.12 refund from her energy supplier! While rates used to be waived for an empty property, our current government first introduced a 50% rate and then bumped it to 150% for properties vacant for over two years. How generous. Nan, meanwhile, is settling in nicely at Huntingdon Gardens. She’s become quite the social butterfly, regularly going out for lunch with fellow resident Isabel, attending coffee mornings for a good gossip, and faithfully playing Wednesday Bingo. Her calendar is full, and she’s already planning for Christmas.

We’ve also begun our Christmas plans, with “Snow White” at the Lighthouse Theatre in Kettering and Boxing Day greyhound racing already booked. Sue and I have tickets to see “Bellowhead” in Leicester with Jim and Brigitte, too.

I managed a round of golf with Andy Spencer on a particularly windy day. The course was quite waterlogged, and few others dared venture out. We probably should have joined them in staying home; it wasn’t the most memorable round. I’ve also visited the Rugby Club to watch a few first-team games. The team is in a higher league this season and performing decently, though I suspect a few coaching or selection issues need addressing.

My Fiesta had its first MOT, and I treated it to a service as well. It spent the whole day in the garage and now proudly sports a new stamp in its logbook. Meanwhile, Jamie is thinking of changing his car. After yet another trip to the petrol station, the cashier noted that he seemed to spend more time there than she did. I wonder what his next choice will be?

Charlotte’s hens are laying now, producing an average of two eggs a day. While most of these make their way to Rothwell, Sue and I were each treated to a fresh egg last week, and they were delicious. Chick, chick, chicken, lay a little egg for me!

STORM? WHAT STORM?

All week, we’ve been bombarded with Met Office warnings of impending doom, and I’m personally blaming some Italian friends, who, in perfect irony, chose this exact moment for a visit. It’s no coincidence, I’m sure, that each of their previous trips has coincided with some bout of atrocious British weather.

So, with a fair amount of scepticism but a touch of caution, I prepared for the worst. The garden swing chairs were stashed away, the pool cover rolled up, the trampoline anchored against the hedge, and the pool chemical barrels relocated to safer ground. Right on schedule, the wind picked up, the rain began to pour, and the radio ratcheted up its warnings. Sue, already bedridden with a stomach bug, settled in for an evening of Strictly followed by X Factor, then burrowed defensively under the covers with a trusty hot water bottle. Meanwhile, I took on watchtower duty for the night, ready to brace for impact. Sure enough, the wind began to howl, rain rattled the windows, and then… phfffffft.

Despite the incessant doom-laden reports on Radio 4 of Armageddon for us soft, evil Southerners, trees down, homes flooded, power outages, it seemed that we virtuous souls in Harborough had been spared. Daylight revealed a mildly raised river level, and the garden leaves swept into neat little piles. While some folks say you have to wait for your reward in heaven, it appears some of us are already on the VIP list.

However, not everything was quite as I’d hoped. I was actually looking forward to a proper storm! My early morning bike ride through the fresh Leicestershire countryside only added to my disappointment: no broken branches, no felled trees, not even a pile of twigs! My grand plan to spot this winter’s fuel along my route, ready to retrieve later by car and chainsaw, was as lost as the storm itself. So, it seems, we shall have to burn the children.

Sarah has been busy with her studies and has already completed her first essay a month ahead of schedule, something I know all too well, as I was tasked with reading it! The topic was the riveting subject of alley-gates. Lee has visited her a few times, though his primary role seems to be keeping starvation at bay by feeding her. They had a lovely time celebrating Halloween together in Sheffield (where it seems, Halloween must come a bit earlier up north!).

Jamie recently visited Coventry Stock Car Racing Circuit, and the car in the photo he posted on Facebook looked uncannily like his own. Work must be incredibly busy for him now, as the company has brought in another employee to help out. He’d been putting in very long hours, so the extra support was much needed.