Nothing went wrong with the Edinburgh mission, but last night produced a trio of peculiar accidents: I turned round holding a bowl of Bechamel sauce which somehow slipped and hit the floor, becoming a sort of cheese flavoured tsunami, and later on, I opened the oven door only to have it come off in my hand. I began to wonder what else might go wrong, and discovered this morning that one of the rough cats had pissed on the Hoover, which as it warmed up, began to smell truly dreadful.
The reason why the rough cats were interacting with the Hoover was that most of yesterday was spent gardening. Hence the back door stood open, and they were clearly minded to annex the back kitchen. They may have overheard me discussing cat-proofing the shed with the Refugee Gardener — we are a bit fed up with them dancing about in there since they have broken several pots and brought his ingenious drainpipe seed-tray down with a clatter (one of them must have tried to sit in it and it isn’t intended to take the weight of a full grown cat). Spring is springing with a will. Calum gave me a couple of hundred leftover crocus which I planted here and there to surprise me next year (to my annoyance, the deer seem to have dug up some of the ones I put in the wood, and eaten the bulbs: they are eating a lot of roots at the moment for some reason). This year’s crocus are now over, but the scillas are showing their twinkling blue stars all over the place, and the primroses are flowering. Some white wood anemones I didn’t know were there have put in a shy and ghostly appearance. Peonies are starting into life, and there are already more daffodils than you really want. Also ground elder. I have begun this year’s campaign, which I will doubtless lose: the RG has a theory about spot weedkilling, which may be more effective. Come to think of it, there was a fourth peculiar accident yesterday: I was trying to dig up a hellebore and broke my fork. It’s a very good one, stainless steel, and I’m fond of it — it was the handle which broke. The RG may be able to replace it, being a handy sort of fellow, and I intend also to see if he can sort out the oven door. If necessary, I can cook on the stove top for a bit, in the Italian style, and make up the bread dough as flatbreads and muffins.