10June1995

London: 10th June 1995
My dear folks,

Mavis snores away on the bed. The sun has come out to cheer up the evening. Jones has taken Maureen & Mariel to Sissinghurst to admire the flowers. I've had a lazy day watching first the rugby & then the finals of the women's tennis in Paris. I put my back out slightly turning the mattress & then, while trying to exercise away the discomfort, upset it further. So I have had a very subdued weekend. Jones, having visions of nursing a cripple in a wheelchair, wagged an irate finger under my nose and swore that I should never pick up anything ever again (and much else besides)...a bit excessive! But as I tell her, she isn't happy unless she's got something to worry about. I've alternated between strapping ice-packs & hotties to the region concerned & I'm glad to report steady progress.

The rugby was interrupted by a screech of tyres and an ominous thud outside the window. Hysterical wailing followed. I took one peek & called an ambulance (which arrived within seconds - most impressive). However, I suspect there was little it could do for the victim, a pedestrian. I gave thanks for my sore back, in a manner of speaking. Descartes might have worked out that he thought therefore he was. But millions of humans could have told him that "we ache therefore we are" is equally valid & probably truer for most.

Maureen & Mariel (from a wine-growing family who produce several excellent reds on their estate near Bordeaux) have moved in upstairs. Jones spent many pleasant weeks with them in years gone by when Maureen had a magnificent home in the area. Jones & I are occupying the study for the moment. Mariel asked her agent here in Britain to deliver three cases of the estate wine. We made a start on it last night, demolishing two bottles quite effortlessly. It's lovely & light & very forgiving. I doubt we should be able to afford it in other circumstances.

Thank you Cathy for your screed on developments in Neustadt. You sure keep yourself busy. (Did the rat come from the rathaus?) I think I have sorted out car arrangements for Portugal & shall fax across a copy of the instructions I have sent the agents. You ought to get the vouchers in due course. Roll on July. My appetite for holidays grows at a frightening pace. Hold thumbs that I win the lottery tonight. One of the two builders at the Quinta has taken a week to visit England & the other is taking it easy in his absence. (We are hoping the former will call & taken down a load of stuff to the Quinta in the van he was intending to purchase here.) They both find it hard to labour away in the heat. The latest photos show them working bronzed & bare-chested, and the walls of the Pig-Pen/workshop rising steadily. Our guests love the weather, mind you, so we don't complain.

It's been mixed here & much cooler these past few days. I like it that way. It's hard to sleep when it's hot. The evenings stretch out till 22.00 and it's light again long before 05.00. Mid-summer's day approaches already. Gosh, I remember saluting the New Year just a few weeks ago. It's just scary where it goes. My latest cosmology book (The Last Three Minutes by Paul Davies) has a chapter on the flexibility of Time. It can, I read, stretch like an elastic. But I knew that without Einstein's help or any clever cosmologist. When they find out how to slow it down, that's when I'll be really impressed.

The girls are back. Cocktails are being served. I shall go & here how they enjoyed Sissinghurst & enjoy another glass or two of "Chateau La Croix Bonnelle".