We’ve had a frantically busy weekend. I have been seizing the day like Billy-o. A few hours after I signed off on Friday, with roses and poetry, I was hauling cement in a wheelbarrow around the side of the house. There’s nothing like getting stuff done to keep you sane.
Here I am, pointing. I didn’t know it was called pointing until after I had finished which was a good thing because I might have thought pointing needed a bit of skill or training, an apprenticeship of some kind. Instead I was handed a trowel and told to pretend I was icing a cake. Take THAT Great British Bake Off; I iced a PATIO!
Work was abandoned yesterday afternoon in favour of the Rugby World Cup. We won! Yes, again! Ireland stands now in the unfamiliar territory of having trounced France and feeling sorry for England. The injuries were appalling. The sight of Paul O’Connell, a rhinoceros of a man, laid out on the pitch has left the nation reeling.
At half-time I alleviated the tension by planting the last of this years garlic crop. I was sorry to reach the end of my garlic plait. I was very proud of it.
In more lady-like pursuits, I finished the crocheted guitar strap for Middle Girl. I made eleven three-round Granny squares from Rico Creative Aran Cotton. The colours were decided entirely on the basis of what I found at the back of a drawer. Sewing the lining on was the trickiest part. I didn’t do a terrific job but it still looks nice.
She is a real joy to spend time with. On Saturday, we went to town on the bus, just the two of us. We drank Hot Chocolate and browsed in the music shop for new piano sheet music. There is something wondrous about sheet music. It’s like a magic spell.
This sweet girl has the gift of understanding it and knowing how to weave the magic.