Wet Weekend

 

Here in the north of the country we are suffering from a typically miserable (weather-wise) Bank Holiday weekend. Temperatures have struggled to make even double digits and it has rained almost continuously. Pretty much what I was trained to expect whilst working but, despite the flexibility that retirement brings, when you are conscious as to how far behind the garden is this season, it is potentially frustrating all the same. Moreover, I say that as somebody who, in retirement, claims not to "do frustration."

Mid week it was a very different picture, the sun shone brightly, we had blue sky and although it was certainly not warm, it brought spring into the step as well as confirmation of the season.

I've spent all winter looking forward to such days. They certainly impact upon behaviour as the need to nest-build and declutter strikes. This last fortnight we've been seriously affected, deciding to redecorate our bedroom from floor to ceiling. Is it just me or do stepladders get harder the further into retirement you go? Ultimately, the paintwork completed, we embarked on what I thought might be the easier part, picking a new carpet and other accessories. Oh my goodness, walk into a carpet showroom and you are quite simply overwhelmed by choice. Four different kinds of underlay seemed hard enough but hundreds of piles, twists and colours nearly had us defeated. However, we have narrowed the choice to six and are now comparing carpet and blind samples to both freshly painted walls and the curtains bought after pursuing a risky strategy on colour reproduction by ordering online. 

I think  it might be safer to line up the add-ons first next time we decide to paint a room and only afterwards choose the paint to match and perhaps even a professional decorator to slap it on for us! I'm not sure if that would fulfill the nesting instinct but I'm willing to give it a try. After all, other people seem to find plenty of alternative activities to bring springtime contentment. 

For instance, the sunny weather certainly brings mad drivers onto the roads and I'm not just referrring to cars parked on blind bends, nor the large groups of bikers overtaking in convoy and at hair-raising speeds. In fact I wasn't even thinking about the caravan driver who cut me up coming way too fast down a road that had been narrowed by parked vehicles. Rather, I'm reflecting on the tractor and trailer going so slowly that they came to a standstill whilst I was in a queue behind them. The trailer was overladen and as a consequence the tractor couldn't actually get up the steep hill we'd started to climb.

Mind the tractor and trailer (they seem to be everywhere at the moment) parked on the pavement outside our village pub has to take the biscuit. I guess farming is thirsty work but mounting the kerb with a vehicle that size just to go for a drink was somewhat thoughtless, especially as it restricted access along the road, regardless. 

Moan over and back to the nest building which as it involved a bedroom clearly drew me into giving my wardrobe a thorough declutter in the never ending quest for reduction. Floordrobes and chairdrobes have gone and my wardrobe itself is a slimmed down version of what it once was. Unfortunately winged species decided to give a helping-hand. I'm blaming the warm weather last summer as I've never had to make recourse to mothballs before; they are now item number one on my shopping list.

Sunshine with its moths and inconsiderate drivers; they have all conspired to allow me to appreciate the beauty of a wet weekend.