August Bank Holiday

So. Sunday dawned bright and sunny, though with clouds and tempests threatening. We had a nice, reasonably leisurely start to the day, pottering around and doing sort of Saturday domestic things (washing, ironing, tidying, that sort of thing). Then at around 11, we ambled out shopping. First to Rowsley, a village not far from Bakewell which has, for reasons unknown, a shopping village. We were after two red pillow cases. It is my habit to change the sheet and the top pillow cases on a weekly basis, but the duvet cover only ever 3 or 4 weeks. Both The Builder and I are absolutely certain that when we left the Mudhut, there were four plain red pillow cases and two patterned ones. Buggered if we can find two of the plain ones. Anyway, we now have two more. Plus two curtains at half price, one for each bedroom, plus two scented candles. Hmmm.

Then we ambled on to Bakewell, which was incredible crowded. I had forgotten that, although we were doing regular shopping on a regular weekend in our regular shopping places, as far as the rest of the world is concerned, it’s a Bank Holiday Weekend and Bakewell is a tourist destination! Anyhow, we acquired some carpenter’s pencils and wotnots for The Builder, and enormous number of seeds, nuts, munchie things and other wholesome snacky food from Julian Graves. WE got some cat treats from the pet shop (though no toys – only dog, rodent and bird toys there L).

So to Chatsworth, for fruit, veg and general food stuffs.

And on to Chatsworth, to B&Q for DIY things like curtain poles, and to Sainsbury for wine, beer, more wine, vodka, a bit more wine – oh, and some odd bits and pieces and cat toys.

And home. Wallets very considerably lighter, car very much heavier!

On Saturday, The Builder had been at the Hangingwater allotment and dug up all the potatoes. Two trugs and a big bucket full. We put them out on the picnic table on Sunday afternoon to dry and for sorting. I decided to do a white wash and hang that out. The Builder put up the curtain poles and the new curtains. It was generally a nice, pottering afternoon. We’ve sorted the potatoes and have two drawers in the larder full of them. Had to throw some away which were clearly damaged beyond retrieval by slugs, earwigs and woodlice, but even so. A better crop than we were expecting.

A pleasant Sunday, then.

Monday dawned showery, windy and occasionally sunny. We had Sue (from when I did Italian) and her husband Roger coming for lunch. So we hopped out of bed early (not by our recent standards, of course, but by Bank Holiday Monday standards) and organised food, tidied and cleaned-for-visitors. We were having souvlaki style lamb pieces, Greek salad, tabouleh and mini pitas. To start we had crisps, twiglets, hummus, and “sticky” prawns which I braised in butter and sweet chilli sauce. And for pud we had plum crumble, with plums from the allotment. It was a good afternoon, sat in the lounge room, chatting, drinking and munching. Although Roger and The Builder didn’t have much to drink given that they were driving.

The Builder driving? Well yes. For we were off into Sheffield in the evening for a family dinner with Taffa and Gaz, Freyja and Mark, and Ross as a private Farewell to Sheffield to T, G and R. It is possible that I may once upon a time have been able to eat a Greek style three course meal at lunchtime, followed by an Italian style baked seafood pancake in the evening – but I can’t do it any more. Sigh. The pancake was lovely – but I struggled and struggled and struggled to finish it. And as defeated. Should have done as Freyja and Mark did and shared a pizza, for Taffa struggled to eat her seafood pizza. Still, it was a lovely evening. Nice for us all to catch up. And on the way home, The Builder and I saw a shooting star scooting down through the sky with a lovely tail behind it. Taffa asked if I had made a wish. But yes. I wished it wouldn’t turn into a fire ball and fall on our house and destroy it. It didn’t. Wish come true!

Taffa, Gaz and Ross are supposed to be moving into a house in Cambridge this coming weekend. The woman who owns it (I think) isn’t now moving until Wednesday. Gareth starts work on Monday. Fred the Landlord at the flat is expecting the keys back at 09:00 on the Monday. Hmm. A tiny dilemma! (I think Gareth is going to approach a friend in March and ask if they can use her spare bungalow for a few days)