Saturday I was expecting the builder and the gardener. Well, one of them turned up and it wasn't the builder! Well, to be fair he did say Saturday or Monday.
The gardener is a small, ancient, weathered man with only 3 teeth. He speaks with such a strong accent that he is almost incomprehensible but he lives next door to an English woman and can say YES and OK so thinks that he's multilingual! He couldn't understand me very well either but we got by with a lot of head nodding and smiling. He did a good job of the lawn and the smell of newly-cut grass did its usual trick of lifting the spirits, temporarily at least.
Sunday it is forbidden to light bonfires, what a relief! I went for a wander around the garden centre and then tried to prepare the trench for the laurel hedge [30 metres] but we need a decent downpour instead of all this insipid constant drizzle.
I was feeling pretty tired, guess I'm not used to all this exercise, so I took the afternoon off. Listened to Radio 4 and read my kindle while the wind howled around the caravan. I must say it was a particularly forceful and bitterly cold wind. I felt quite protected although the caravan was definitely making lots of creaky noises.
I was only disturbed when Mme B battled against the wind from next door. Wearing her pyjamas and dressing gown, scarf knotted around her neck [stylish even in moments of stress!] and without even her cigarette holder, she tottered to the caravan. I was really worried that something serious was wrong because it was a horrendous day. But it transpired she had fought her way through the strong, cold winds to ask me if I had a blue tent as one was rolling around her grounds. Not guilty! I sent her back off to the warmth and safety of her house before we both froze to death.
I always knew that the cold would be an issue but I didn't realise how difficult I would find the solitude. Most of the time I am actually quite happy with my own company but it would be nice to sit and have a wind-down drink and a chat in the evenings. Chris did Skype but he was keen to get back to the football and I was in the middle of trying to assemble a brushcutter.
By mistake I put the fire and the kettle on at the same time and the electricity went off so I had to wrap up and make my miserable way through the biting wind, unlock the house, run back for the torch and try and remember everything Chris had told me about the fuses. Luckily it was just the trip switch and I ran happily back to the warm caravan, ready to crawl into bed early and hope that Monday would be a more productive day.
The wind howled around the caravan all night long, it was really creepy! And really really cold. And, if anyone's interested, my nails are totally buggered!
There is something about the sound of cold and a warm caravan that put a smile to my face... it is a good thing the caravan was cozy... not cool that you are alone though... still sometimes it is good for the soul to have some time for oneself.
ReplyDeleteYes, time alone can be good but I was getting a bit fed up with it. Now the workmen are here, it's a lot more fun. And I feel at last there is a point to me being here. Chris isn't having a good time working in Angola and he would love to be here at the moment!
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