Post 462: Fresh Fish Friday.
The now usual stroll down to the fresh fish aisle, past the fresh vegetables, fruit and deli, was once upon a time a sprint, but now it’s a wallow into Friday night supper.
The slightly smoked salmon was what I had in my head to get and nothing more, but I now had a loyalty card and I’d get a few coins off the printed price. Then the look of the yellowfin tuna caught my eye and looked lovely. It was enough to tip the balance and get another two bags of fish today, and I’d have to explain the details of cooking the tuna to my Darling, word for word, when she got home from the weigh bridge and the café.
I’d woken with the subdued pains from last night’s marathon TV binge and got up after I’d had an hour’s kip following the blog. My head was still in a mess but I knew I had to look like a spring chicken in my Darling’s eyes so she could rest easier with a trip out with the girls today.
So as the cat cried to hail a new morning from the conservatory roof, I headed downstairs with two-plus hours to spare before the eleven o’clock rushed drive to town. I could feed and water Mr Vicious in the garage and then perhaps grab the waste bin from wherever it had been left by the early shift of bin-men. That led to a long clean-up in the back garden I did not expect.
The back door handle was white hot already when I grabbed it to get out into the mostly patioed back garden and, as it was the last day I could use the hose on the garden, it would be silly not to wet the flamingo willow roots that my Darling loves so much.
In the springtime it’s ablaze with pinky tips to the new year’s growth and by May it’s usually showing its best, but even now there’s a pinkish hue to the overall look of the nearly round pruned shape. I twisted the tap and let a trickle out to wet its feet. I’m not sure I like the idea of wasting water on the garden, especially in these times of wildfires so local, only four miles away.
As I rounded the side gate to search for the empty waste bin I saw our gleaming car from yesterday’s wash and polish and naturally looked for more bird poo to spoil the view.
Down there was a small bird dollop, but within easy reach was the bin too. As I tidied away the wheelie bin I thought about how I felt.
In the sunshine I was happy and by the time I looked down the full width of the raised borders all I could see was dead rose heads, bramble and Virginia creeper doing what it does best — creep.
So I forgot about the bird poo and sorted out the pruning with my best satin chrome welding gloves that the thorns have no effect on, and pruned away.
Just little bits at a time I cut into short lengths and dropped into a black builder’s bucket for ease and, with my limit of two filled buckets as a guide to half an hour’s work, I could be happy that I hadn’t overdone the morning’s efforts.
It might have been three buckets and an hour by the time I’d brushed up the leaves that had blown off the already-mentioned dry flamingo willow so the patio areas were ready for Big Sis tomorrow.
I turned the hose trickle off and was satisfied that I’d done enough. My left side was aching, and that was my good side, so I knew it was time to get in and have my breakfast. Finally Mr V had stopped following me around for suicidal tummy tickles, which I didn’t think even the welding gloves would save me from.
So I went in happy and he lolloped off to his favourite sleepy place in the borders under the tree.
I washed my hands, shook the leaves from my hair and grabbed the not-yet-opened Alpen for breakfast. I tipped some nearly out-of-date blue-top milk from the fridge and limped towards the comfy chair and the safety of the TV K-dramas.
I had an hour to scrub up and there was no noise upstairs, so I got busy chewing the bowl of muesli and started to watch the saddest blinking episode of this family drama that seemed determined to litter the floor with dead bodies of prominent characters.
Well, I started to well up and then the tears flooded down my cheeks and I was sobbing my heart out as if these were my family being destroyed by the three mad male members of the ensemble and I couldn’t do a thing to stop them, either the killings or the crying.
I had to turn it over to another drama and dry my face. If my Darling saw me like this I’d be for the high road to the doctors. Ha ha.
So the face calmed from the red-eyed monster I was by the time I heard the 10:20 alarm upstairs and the unsteady footfall of my Darling padding towards the shower.
By the time I’d made a suitable change into clean clothes, including a warm hoodie to save me from the freezing aisles of the supermarket later but swelter in the hot oven of my Darling’s car, we headed into town slightly late, as usual, but were hampered by the resurfacing and another round of badly necessary works to underground water pipes for yet another housing development.
I dropped her off right outside the church hall and headed off to the fresh fish counter.
I got home safely and so did my Darling after achieving the very lowest weight she’s allowed herself to get down to. Two and a half stone gone and she still lost another half pound today, reaching her lowest weight for many years.
She’s looking fabulous and her ankles and hips are no doubt being helped by this enormous weight loss.
Anyway, after telling her about the tuna we might have later, she went into a mobile-phone recce of the best ideas for cooking the steaks, even after I informed her of the counter staff’s advice.
We ended with a fresh lemon and garlic buttery sauce and perfectly cooked huge steaks of loveliness, and boy were they filling.
Great job team. Pat on the back all round.
The day ended without the aches and pains I should have had but, on the advice of many a blog replier, I did nothing but admin or resting for the rest of the day.
I can’t wait for Big Sis and Big Bro-in-law tomorrow. I’ll wash the patio seats and might get the fire pit out too, just in case of an evening under the stars choking to death on the smoke. Ha ha.
Take it easy out there. It’s nearly August and the nights are drawing in. Use the nights wisely, and I’ll be seeing you Mr & Mrs M next week.
Can’t wait.
I’ll bring tissues just in case I get serious. Ha ha.
Sleep well.
Take care.
