Wednesday 13th June

And I am thoroughly embarrassed to note the date of the last entry. Tempus, it seems, has been busily fugiting and I've been neglecting stuff. No change there.

And the things that have been happening! There are leaves all over the place where there were only sticks; the garden has exploded into all sorts of flowering things that we didn't know were there (Lilies, tulips which have come and gone and the most spectacular hostas without the hint of a snail munch anywhere); I cleared a space and dug a veg patch, which now has spuds and peas and lettuce and tomatoes hurtling towards the sky like triffids - but my beans didn't come up so I had to replant them a bit late; the wildlife continues to be very interesting.

We have a snake in the garden, who we call 'Erbert for no good reason that I can think of. It's a garter snake, completely harmless, and we occasionally find him basking in his various favourite spots around the garden. We usually uncover him while we're mowing the lawn, too. You wouldn't believe how fast a snake can move under duress; it sort of thrashes itself across the lawn for the safety of a flower bed like a dementedly wobbly bit of rubber tubing. Quite takes your breath away.

We get the humming bird! Seen it several times now, breezing nonchalantly over the deck and having a dip at the feeder. Yesterday I was standing close to the open kitchen door that leads onto the deck. I was idly watching a wasp buzzing away close to the doormat, and after a while it buzzed off. Then the buzzing came again, deeper and throbbing. I looked up and thought, 'That's a bloody big wasp...' Nope! A humming bird had just hovered itself through into the kitchen for a look round, which it did, briefly, and then pushed off. They are incredibly delicate, slender things. Lovely, really.

While I was digging the veg patch behind the garage, pronounced 'graaj' ,(which was a tough, manly job involving a long handled, round nosed shovel that George next door lent me. When I asked him where he wanted me to put it when I'd done, explaining that I didn't want to be one of those pain-in-the-bum neighbours that borrows things and never return them, he patiently explained to me that 'that don't matter a heap of raccoon shit' and told me to leave it behind the garage until I'd finished the job)... anyway, where was I?... Oh, yes - as I was digging there I saw a very nobby little brown toad, a tiny thing that just seemed to detach itself fully formed from the earth. It heaved itself over the soil and after a few minutes watching it I pushed off to do something important, can't remember what but it may have involved a cup of tea. When I came back I found that the toad had met 'Erbert, not necessarily to the toad's benifit. I have attached a photo below, but it's not for the feint of heart or weak of stomach.

Mowing the lawn is an education. No point messing about with the little push-me-pull-you type effort we had at Cambridge Avenue. You have to use the ride-on jobby, umpteen horsepower throbbing under your bum. The grass grows like stink, and the bloody dandelions are a menace. They look quite nice when they're all yellow and flowery - but when they get to the clock stage they just look a mess and they're up again about half a day after you mow. Bastards!

The weather right now is blistering. The thermometer in the car (which gives you the outside temperature) was reading 34 degrees C on the way back from fetching Hattie from school yesterday. We got the pool open a couple of weeks ago and it's great. Hattie would spend her life in there if we'd let her. I have no idea at all whether we're doing the chemicals right, but hey! The water's clean and algae-free and it doesn't sting our eyes, so what else is there? It's not heated, of course, but once you're in it's just nicely cool and refreshing. Mind you, there is the process of getting into the water, which is another matter. In the matter of getting yourself into a pool there are leapers and creepers. The leapers just take a running jump and get it over with, drowning half the population in the process. I am a creeper. I may become a leaper later in the summer, but right now I don't trust it. So I sit on the edge and sort of lower myself down in stages, and I wince and grimace manfully as each new inch of dry flesh goes under. The knees are a big hurdle, but even when they are under you still have to negotiate the wetting of he trunks. You can't touch the bottom before the trunks are under, and it's a delicate and breathtaking business. When I finally DO touch bottom, I find five minutes wading about on tiptoe, with my shoulders round my ears, is an absolute must before I have the courage to dip the shoulders. After that it's a breeze.

Right, I have work to do. Here are some photos. There's one of the toad's unfortunate encounter, a couple of the lawnmower (one with me on, and one closer up with Angie). And then there's one of Hattie at the retreat we went on with the Kingston string group, showing off the intricately crafted mouse costume they used in their 'skit'.