Storms and calms

We had a small crisis on Thursday night: Bill the Gardener in conjunction with Barnyards the big farmer came up with a theory for controlling the algae in the pond. This involved a large and unsightly white plastic builder’s bag full of barley straw. The Apparitional Gamekeeper came home from his work towards five and threw a wobbly so pronounced he practically went into orbit; leaped, enraged & fully clad into the pond and dragged the thing out (as I worked in my study, I heard a distant SPLOOSH … ‘F**K!!!!’) and then came and told me all about it, dripping and so furious the water was practically coming off him in the form of steam. I wasn’t perhaps as sympathetic as I might have been, because I was busy. The next day he turned up with a lovely present, some absolutely charming paper lanterns he had found in the pound shop in Aberdeen, by way of apology for overreacting. We are now in London, having left the homestead in charge of its unflappable Animal Uncle. The AG has probably filled the pond with artiginal non-eyesore-creating hessian sacks of barley straw in the course of the day, and I am sure the Uncle has been all that is tactful.
London has gone very Mediterranean, at least to the perception of us northerners. In deeply gentrified Ealing, bamboo, cordylines, palms, acacia and other tender southern european stuff flourishes to left and right; the air, which is still, warm and humid, carries the scent of roses and philadelphus. People are strolling about or sitting outside pubs wearing shorts. Winter seems an infinitely long way away, whereas for us, it was only last month.

One Response to “Storms and calms”

  1. will Says:

    Don’t blame the apparitional gamekeeper. At least the bloody bucket could have been painted in an OFF-white. Am currently working in some enormous 18c house in Salisbury Cathedral Close. The weather brings out a remarkably nosey lot who stare unblinkingly at the Master’s hallway when front door it swung open to extricate feotid carpet/old kitchen cabinets/furballed cat. Kept tripping over sightseerers on doorstep in morning. God only knows how the owners of Syon House feel.

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