1August1997

1 August 1997
My dear folks,

I hardly know where to begin this letter, such an exciting day has it been. The Rocket hardly recognises itself; the flat positively gleams; lots of things that were broken are fixed & the small African violet that I repotted has rewarded me by producing several lovely pink flowers. Do you see what I mean? Maybe I should begin with the Rocket because that’s where the day began. The poor thing was really showing the burden not only of the seasons but also of neglect after standing for weeks in the street untended. The paint-work was badly in need of polish & tiny rust bubbles were giving warning of trouble to come. After another awakening with the sparrows I went up early in the day – a muggy, cloudy day with occasional showers – to a local garage whose washing facilities I had virtually to myself for the two hours it took to rejuvenate her. Thence to the VW garage to get a new back wiper which wasn’t in stock but should be available on Monday.

By lunchtime my in-baskets had been cleared, a rare event. I have three in-baskets, one for urgent stuff, one for stuff that can wait & one for items that I may one day get around to reading. The problem is that I’m forever muddling them up & finding urgent stuff in the other baskets. So they all need regular scrutiny. I sat down with a glow of satisfaction to watch the lunchtime news & promptly went to sleep. [The same thing happened again this evening!]

Elisa rang the bell at two. Elisa Sousa is the cleaner my neighbour, Stefania, found to clean the flat before & after her folks’ stay during my absence. She’s a young, pleasant Portuguese woman whose work wins more prizes than her appearance. The poor thing has a crop of facial hair that no girl needs. But that’s by the by. We started out at one of the houses I mind, she vacuuming the stairs & I replacing a dozen popped bulbs from the top rung of a tall, newly acquired ladder. [The place was a tip. It absolutely beats me how people in 4 flats can fail to clean the common staircase!] We continued the good work at 90 Shirland. In the process I found a way to resecure the vacuum cleaner’s “coming-off” wheel & did Stefania a good turn. My glow improved from satisfaction to virtue. Elisa & I were both glowing with perspiration by the time we were done. I soaked three T-shirts that I changed as each became uselessly wet. She hadn’t that advantage. More high temps & high humidity are forecast over the weekend, when I’m working.

Mavis took to Elisa immediately & rolled over to have his tummy scratched. He followed me downstairs later, attracting the attention of a passing small boy who was keen to meet him. I assured boy & mother that Mave was an old softie who delighted in meeting people but the beast didn’t fancy the company & leapt past them to disappear into Stef’s flowers. I made his apologies. Speaking of flowers, Jones, Channel 4 is showing expats’ gardens in Spain & Portugal. I’m recording tonight’s programme for your future delectation.

I had to make a couple of phone calls to the Barclays OnLine Help Desk to sort out an access problem. It meant reinstalling the Barclays software & then redownloading my current account statement. But it worked. It is quite fascinating to watch your statement zipping itself on to your screen. You have the facility to credit/ debit your own accounts & to make payments to several hundred companies – a taste of things to come. I’ve yet to get on to Viglen to sort out a software problem with my laptop that’s making it hard for me to access my email abroad. But that will wait. My page is up. I’ll send it off.

Blessings ever
T