I planted a wisteria Floribunda Alba four years ago. It’s doing well but refuses to flower so instead of the above display I have this.
The cemetery is full of fresh green shoots; the furze is flowering along with wisteria, chestnut trees, cherry trees and myriad ground plants. Walking with Bertie in the early morning sunshine, listening to the birds, is as close to heaven as Barons Court gets until the idyll is broken. A fresh grave is being dug with a dinky little digger – probably not Corvid-19 related – and the streets round Charing Cross Hospital are packed with cars with NHS emergency parking permits. Usually these workers come by tube and only the Consultants moor their expensive motors in the hospital car park. There are lots of discarded face masks in the street. I think the elastic straps break. I won’t wear one until I can get a supply in the Bellew Arms. To slightly digress, I’ve always wondered why the Lone Ranger didn’t wear a face mask instead of looking like a panellist on What’s My Line?
As the weather warms up, lunch in the garden is the new norm. Perhaps warm pitta bread with taramasalata and hummus or a tuna and cucumber sandwich on brown accompanied by cold beer or a glass or two of white or rosé – sometimes even a G&T. The garden is north-facing so we catch the last of the sun at drinks time. Bertie joins me to sunbathe.
The Wine Society have re-opened and honoured the order I placed before they closed. As they proved unreliable I sourced five cases elsewhere, so the cellar is rather full. But to be on the safe side Berry Bros delivered eight bottles of gin to top-up supplies. The gin cupboard is the fullest it has ever been. I buy beer from the newsagent and bags of ice from the corner shop. I’m not concerned about food although I did place a small order with Fortnum & Mason; Scotch eggs and a Chateaubriand. Robert does food shopping and the ‘fridge is much fuller than usual. He favours healthy food but sometimes I’m allowed a pork pie for lunch. What I’d really like is a big F&M chicken and ham pie in pastry with salad, some tiny boiled potatoes and some friends to share it with. Bertie’s raw food arrives, frozen, weekly. We compete for freezer space.
Lock-down life is a pleasurable stay-cation. We have Bertie to keep us company and plenty of space; home, sweet home.
I love that dear Bertie is asleep on the same bench as the bottles of wine. He’s obviously enjoyed sharing a glass or two! ??
Christopher,
Firstly there was his misdemeanour in Richmond Park for which you duly accepted the blame & the penalty.
Then there is the fact that the quality of his savoury victuals seem to surpass what is on your own plate. Finally he has claimed the prime spot on the sunny garden bench (as an alternative to the prime spot on the sofa). I had always thought that with Beagles training was difficult, but I now believe I was mistaken: Bertie has trained YOU perfectly Christopher!