My housemate had forgotten to tell me we would be dog-sitting this weekend for a friend who is moving house. So I came yawning into the kitchen and found two lively Jack Russells with custom-made Argyll knitted jackets, dog dishes and meals of ostrich mince, chopped beans and pumpkin in Tupperware dishes.
I am delighted to have dogs in the house again. Maxie and Tammy are running around the back garden and trotting in and out of my study. They have their own resting place with their duvet plumped and ready, but prefer to lie at my feet. Two alert and naughty Jack Russells with a water bowl just near the back door and a new place to explore, enclosed and safe. The neighbours’ cats are appalled that the grden doesn’t belong to them any longer, as are the hadeda birds who usually wander through flowerbeds at their leisure.
Freshly baked bread just out of the oven — Una made it before she went to bed — and I am about to begin a great salad of diced cucumbers, ripe avocado, tomatoes, sping onions, feta, olives, cos lettuce. Nothing unusual but perfect with grilled lamb. I might do a bowl of tzatziki as well, the yoghurt is thick and fresh.
Some days the next right thing just comes naturally. I shall pick flowers for the living room, branches of blossom. Clean the bathroom and make extra lunch for a housebound invalid. Play with the dogs. Go for a walk around the village in this thin spring sunshine. Invite friends over for tea.
The years of the ‘lost weekend’ seem to have happened in another lifetime. How I enjoy the simple and ordinary and uncomplicated in life, it is so rare and so often overlooked.