Heads (and feet)

For the last week I have been self-isolating because a group of friends, one of whom is covid-vulnerable, will be visiting me on Tuesday. I'm good at being solitary but I was sad to miss today's first live choir rehearsal in 18 months. But it was warm and sunny, and should be so on Tuesday too, so I spent the day outdoors removing some of the inherited rubbish in the garden (by rubbish I mean lumps of concrete, bags of solidified cement, old tubs of paint and less identifiable substances), mowing the dandelion and nettle patch (which was much more like a lawn when I moved in, I was surprised to see when sorting through photos yesterday), and discarding dried poppy stems (by far the nicest job).

It looks like things are finally happening on the planning permission front, so I've been chucking away indoor stuff too in preparation for handing the house over to the builders. That included several tins of dehydrated shoe polish in colours I have never worn on my feet. I think the red must date from when Secondborn was small, but grey? The blue reminded me of my most comfortable pair of ankle-boots ever but they fell apart a decade ago. At least when I went to check the colours of the shoes I still own I was reminded that I gave all the ones with heels to a charity shop a while ago. Hurrah!

There is a lamp and a pile of tiles on the pavement outside the house and I hope they will disappear as, a few weeks ago, did the ring binders and dog-shaped boot scraper (yes, really - another garden find).

Tomorrow is cleaning the house and shopping, two of my least favourite chores.