Collective noun needed...for wild orchids

 This last week - starting May 10 - has seen the greatest blossoming/presence of wild orchids at La Chaise since....oh, since we have been here some 40 years ago.....Sadly with the joy of such rare plants come human quarrels....this because the grasslands of La Chaise have been let to a random local person who is entitled to take the hay from the fields. And this person is using the phrase 'exploit' in its more pejorative sense.

We have had orchids at La Chaise before - in fact the sheep used to rest on the biggest display of 'lazy purples' regularly seen under the corner ash tree in the main field.   But this time we have had some truly exotic ones - stems decorated with imitation bumble bees, some with flies - there was even one known as the 'hanging man' orchid because it seemed there was a skinny green skeleton hanging inside its petals.

 

But what has been different this year is that there has been a greater show of public interest - and consequently administrative interference....Official bodies have been set up to 'administer' the life of these flowers....what are know as 'arretes' in french are issued that threaten fines on any one who is know to have destroyed orchids.  Of course if one is haymaking it is difficult, given the size of present day hay-making tractors, to skim round a fragile plant which sometimes is no higher than the grass

So this year, Stephanie who is our 'gardienne' at La Chaise and is highly qualified in the subject of wild flowers, put stakes and warning ribbons round the plants...fortunately most of them were near existing fencing so it really should not have been a problem. Equally fortunately the plants are very short lived - possibly not more than a week for the whole cycle from emergence to flowering to fruition - eventually the 'exploitant' agreed to differ his mowing until he was called.   He is probably sacrificing many things, praying very hard, that the May meteo stays clement - so far no sign of rain.

My suggestion for a collective noun?   A profusion.....

 

 A few days ago, when lunching with a girl friend, (COVID NOTE: the table between us was was very wide and all the windows in the room were open) we started to discuss  our London living experiences over the forty odd years we have known each other - and London. We both agreed that London was a nicer place to live in now...the Londoners were so much friendlier, helpful and generally good news. For example, it seems as though bus drivers now make an effort to park closer to pavements when picking up, or letting passengers off the bus. So less risk of twisted ankles for the elderly.  I have taken to shouting 'thanks' as I get off the bus, stick first.We we paused our conversation to reflect on our observation, then looked at each other and said (almost simultaneously) - but so few of the people we mentioned were English.

Rain, rain go away I have panicked enough for one day.

Total panic this morning - a bit because of potentially awful weather, post Eunice, and I had to go shopping but mainly because I could not find - wait for it - my bus pass. Also my mobile phone - dual sim no less - was blocked so even if I had a bus pass on it, it could not be used.  I searched all the pockets of all two of my outer coats, emptied my very small handbag, even pulled everything out of my wallet.  Nothing.  What to do? Take a cab? Expensive.  Report card lost...to whom? The police, the town hall? Fortunately I have a full size spray of Rescue remedy on my desk.

 Then I remembered I had 'washed' my London dirty raincoat yesterday and it was now dripping into the bath....but I could not have left my bus pass in its pocket?? Yes, I could, I had...So off shopping I went, quite successfully.   Nice young man in phone shop fished French sim out of phone which came back to life (brexit?). 

In the rain I managed, supported by crutch and shopping, to get on the no 43 bus to take me part of the way home.  It started to rain. I started to calm down. Then I heard the bus say it was the 241 and going to Highbury Grove ....seriously not fair.   I had to get off bus in pouring rain and wait for another....Remind self to write to London Transport...

Parsimonious petrol person learns to shop in town

 It was one of those sudden flashes of insight that hit one at inappropriate moments, the answer to my question: why do I find shopping in London such a strain?   The answer was simple - I was, I am, still mentally preparing for shopping the country way. 

 In the country, one creates a list of things to buy, once the list is long enough, in the car you get and go to the nearest town.  There is no way you would permit yourself to go shopping just for one item, well, perhaps for bread....but rural bakers are now also 'multiples' selling other staples of household needs. But they are still kilometres away.

In town, if I wait until I have a proper shopping list, I find myself going in five different directions to fulfil my needs, walking long distances on hard pavements or waiting, in the cold, for various buses. My petrol parsimonious mind has not yet adjusted to the fact that I can pop out of the house, go up to Ali's  - and just buy one thing.

Unexpected joy - or return to childhood

 An unexpected joy:  wandering down Upper Street in Islington, hoping to find my favourite stationary shop (Rymans) a childhood memory came back...I decided to buy a 'Pritt Stick' - why I cannot remember, something to do with sticking something else on to paper.  Firstly I was surprised - after a tentative I-am-an-Old-Lady request for a Pritt Stick the aimable shop assistants did not seem fazed at all.  Yes, Pritt Sticks, joy of my childhood, after I had been allowed to use scissor, still exists.  And it is tougher than ever - I even used it to stick putti round my bathroom mirror.

On being shy to admit the minor irritants of COVID

This very small Japanese lacquer tray bears a small selection of  relatively cheap clip on ear-rings.. behind which is a story that it embarasses me to tell.   Here goes:

One of the Very Annoying (but relatively unimportant to others) aspects of  obligatory mask wearing is that 'persons' who like to wear ear-rings but who have cringed at the idea of piercing ears have most likely lost a lot of those same ear-rings as the mask is jerked off...

Well, perhaps others are more cautious but I am not. Patience was never one of my attributes.   The cruel moment came when I was parking baby Audi in the woodshed after a longish expedition to the shops.  I was wearing my favourite pendant ear-rings, beautifully faceted emerald drops. Well one of those is now somewhere mixed into the sawdust - the other is a single pendant.

HOWEVER! upon arrival in London, some random magazine offered me a solution - a handful of small, cheap to buy ear-rings. I seized the offer - ear-rings are vital to one's sense of balance - and they duly arrived.  So far I have not lost one - but perhaps that is easier in London where ear-rings are more visible on pavement than in rural dirt and dust. At least, with a ring on each ear, I feel safer, better balanced. So far I still have the lot.

Water troubles....

 What is it with London water? Or is it the dishwashing machine

As I was busy loading my mini London dishwasher I suddenly became conscious of my actions:

  I put in a tablet in the appropriate box (it did not quite fit) then - on the basis of old women's advice and my own experience, I added some white vinegar to make glassware shiny - then I added something called 'rinse-aid' in its designated place.(Remind myself to look up in the book of dishwasher-how-to-operate instructions why this latter space should have a moveable arrow and two (!) observation holes in its lid.

Next I close the lid, reduce the program from 3 hours to 1.5 and set the whole going which it does with enthusiasm, noise and clatter.  Experience calms me - the clatter does not mean contents breaking, just things knocking against each other.

Yes, yes, I could wash up by hand, using just a plastic bowl, hot water from a tap, a sponge or brush.  But I think I have better things to do..now that the machine exists.

Also, after some months on non-speaks with Thames Water we appear to be on good terms again.  By this I mean I gave in and let the company debit its bills directly from my bank account.

(Note to self: remember to nag TW about sending a meter reader from time to time,meter easy of access, coal hole not locked, has own lighting)