Water Lane in summer

I woke with a head of steam on me this morning, having decided to listen to the whole of Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie, which was being broadcast as a radio drama in seven segments throughout the day, to mark the 70th anniversary of the Independence of India.

In between, I concentrated on some boring but necessary tasks, and going for a walk. The last time I walked with the doggie down this lane was almost eighteen months ago, and the banks were studded with primroses and bluebells. Spring was at its height. (The bluebells this year were for me in Wanstead, on another pet sit, and I only seem to have cats to look after now...)

The lane-walk was as delightful I'd recalled. Pleased that the sun had come out, I took my jigsaw out in the garden on my return. The bees buzzing on the lavender were attracted by the bright colours on the jigsaw, and came to crawl all over it. Extraordinary, and sad. Cardboard flowers....

Eventually, I thought to check my phone. I hadn't seen it for a few hours, being entirely contented in my own world of bees, flowers, the splashing of the water feature, the sun warming my back, riots on the radio...

I unlocked the phone and: OH! One message:
Owing to persistent rain at campsite, owners have decided to leave early. Returning tonight. Could I make myself scarce, as they have four teenagers?

Paradise Lost. I wrap up the jigsaw, run around tidying and changing sheets, throwing brown wrinkled vegetables on to the compost, watering the garden, deadheading the roses: all the things I'd thought I could do in a leisurely fashion over the next forty eight hours!

Steve came to pick me up. I was glued to the radio for yet another episode of the drama, but rapidly loaded all my stuff and left. Home now seemed smaller and messier. When I tried to fry bacon and mushrooms, I triggered the smoke alarm. However, I did manage to make another fruit cake (see Monday's entry) and this one was browned to perfection.

Later: The good news has dawned on me gradually. After three nights of attempting to watch TV in Woodchester via an Amazon Prime box, I abandoned the effort (apart from catching the odd episode of Pointless on the laptop). I have now broken my addiction to mindless TV watching. Radio is better because I can do other things at the same time. I don't get stuck in the sofa.

Finally, I slipped into bed in ye olde messy bedroome (yes, I know, I could actually clean it!) to listen to the very last episode of Midnight's Children. Somewhere between ten to twelve and twelve midnight, I fell asleep. I have no idea how the story ended.