It’s been a grotty end to the week. I’ve been coping with some sort of summer cold which, coupled with the heat has led to some very uncomfortable days and nights. I took a lateral flow but no evidence of the lurgy, just a summer cold. Yuk.
The worst part, amongst a number of worst parts have been the nights. Even if I get off to sleep, I’ll only manage two to three hours before I wake. With this bug, I’ve had everything. Burning heat so all the sheets feel like I’ve ironed them, the shivers that knot my shoulders and set off a headache and sweats the require me to sleep on a towel. At the moment I’m averaging five hours over the last three days. Yawn…
I’m hoping that I’m recovering: the temperatures are due to be a little lower tomorrow and ten degrees lower on Monday and I should be enjoying a full week, if we ignore the thrill of the fitting of a new gas boiler on Monday and Tuesday. Tuesday evening sees the Textiliste and me at Wembley to see Coldplay. You may not be fans, but we are. Dog’s real name comes from a Coldplay album; if nothing else that will tell you what we think about them.
Then from Wednesday to the week end it’s 5 days at the Home of Cricket, Lord’s to watch England take on South Africa. Again it may not be your bag… you really are missing out. I’ve even persuaded the Textiliste to come on Friday, not because of my company nor the potential excitement but because her old flat mate and close friend of us both is coming.
Seeing South Africa brings back a memory from 1998 with the South Africans also toured. That year the Grandstand which previously had been a rickety structure that must have been close to being condemned and had been rebuilt, was opened. To part fund it the Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC) issued debentures that guaranteed you a seat and I indulged. So excited was I (like an over-sugared toddler) I planned on doing something I’d never done before: watching every single ball of a test match. Some of you are already wincing but for those unaware of the vagaries of this beautiful game that’s potentially 5 days of six hours (plus one hour of meal breaks). I arrived early because Her Maj had been inveigled by her Hubs to open the stand and I thought it might be nice to watch. Everything was new and even the staff and marshalls were a bit unclear where everything was. So when a friendly cove in a green jacket offered to ferry me to my seat on the top floor via a lift, who was I to refuse?
We reached the second level of three before the power outted on the whole stand. we could hear the officials and Her Maj over the PA. We could hear the captains toss. We could hear the teams come out. And we damn sure heard the wooooooOOOO as the first ball was bowled. Meanwhile I and my equally perturbed guardian remained trapped in the lift for another thirty minutes or so.
I’d failed before I began. Given the challenges below I hope this week isn’t going to be a repeat…
The only potential blot on that horizon will be the train/tube/train strikes on Thursday/Friday/Saturday. Of course everything will be fine….
I listened to a gardening expert today, on the subject of which trees to plant given that they will be maturing in 50 years and our climate will be more like central France is now, or so they say (I can hear the Textiliste whispering ‘vineyards/vineyards) and she said she likes a cork oak. New to me and no doubt non native for obvs reasons, but since I will be replacing a mature silver birch soon as its most likely dead, it’s something to consider.