Sunday, 2 December 2012

The fruits of labour

What a funny old week it has been. It has ranged from an appointment with the skin specialist, who sprayed me with liquid nitrogen in a few places, such as the face and head, thus disfiguring me for the next week. Fortunately nothing serious was found.

Less seriously, there has been a prolonged struggle to fit a new squeegee on to my mop. I have had to retire defeated. Although I set out to buy a new mop, with an easier was of replacing the sponge, it transpired that there was actually no alternative. They are all the same design. This provoked bitter thoughts about how such things are designed, probably by males who never actually mop the floor themselves, or, indeed, have ever had to replace the sponge. My fingers are not nimble enough to put in the little screws, which are too close to the edge. Perhaps a better model may be found if I ever get to the Great Hardware Shop in the Sky. I would not bet on it, though. Not that I ever do bet.

Prodded and inspired by a friend, who is a very competent perfectionist, and who is rich (she has just replaced her perfectly good Mercedes for an even better model), I have been attending to my tiny garden. She said my front verandah looked awful, and I should fix it all up. Hindered only slightly by the need to find new pots which I could actually lift and move about, I have repotted and moved things around the very limited available space, in the front, the back and the atrium space in the middle of the house, now made relatively glorious by the new drain fashioned by Fernando. I bought two fuchsias and a geranium, pruned the sorry looking palms, and now hope for the best, even despite the fact that the weather is going to get very hot. What I would really like is a Wollemi pine. However they are not available anywhere handy to me.

This is such a very urban area, with tiny gardens, that the few nurseries nearby tend to have very little variety. The local markets offer a better selection and I bought a new cumquat. The trees I have been harvesting for the last umpty years have been cut down - more and more apartments will be built on this hitherto derelict site (redeemed only by the cumquat harvest) - a devastating blow to my marmalade making career. So I bought a small tree. Of course I will be dead long before it gets to a size which would give a sufficient yield of fruit, but one must live in hope. The next search is for a pot large enough to accommodate the cumquat.

In between all this excitement, there has been a book fair, to which I have hied several times, making purchases on each visit,  as well as picking up another several at the markets. There is a lot of reading to be done, but now that I am on my own, I do read much more, and with better concentration.

Actually instead of all this book and plant buying, I should turn my attention to the study, selection and purchase of a new vacuum cleaner. It does not sound like nearly as much fun....




3 comments:

Molly said...

Yes indeed, books. They'll be my downfall [or maybe my salvation!] Without them I might be housewife of the year.....not that that is even in the top twenty things I aspire to be. Having pretty potted plants around certainly cheers one up!

The Elephant's Child said...

Plants and books, books and plants are my biggest weakness. I do not like shopping - except for plants and books. And the thrill of the chase for second hand books excites me like little else.
On the less desirable shopping note, we have a Dyson. I wouldn't get another brand again. It does a good job, and the service when it failed to function (once in over ten years) was exemplary.

Isabelle said...

Plants and books - always cheering.