Progress

At this very minute Steve is putting the new kitchen window in, the old one is in the back of the truck and I am just about to prime the new trim before it is attached. It reminds me rather of Leo and me struggling to dismantle the enormous frame of the arch in my big room at Heatherwood, and his inspired, crazy WONDERFUL tossing of it to the skip below, three stories, instead of prudent dismantling and scurrying down the stairs, up and down in little pieces.

It is a heavenly morning with just the right amount of breeze off the water, and we should be through by lunchtime so I am wondering what to do next. I primed the ceilings of the attics above either side of the living room vault, it was like Bridge over the River Kwai, though I don't suppose Alec Guinness did much cosy housekeeping in his box. I had to lie on my back with just enough space over my nose to slide the roller over my head into the ever-diminishing slope beyond, then of course it got easier as I approached the apex though I still couldn't sit up. It has made a big difference, the light bounces off the white and the room feels larger. I brought my two beautiful woven wicker laundry hampers down - I commissioned those over thirty years ago - because really, empty space looks better.

The terrible thing is I feel all this is busywork, I have lost the sense of meaning and the accompanying hum of content. I'm but a stranger here, heaven is my home, and I'm not the first person to dread that if there is a heaven, it will be dull.

June and Sara rang me fresh from a morning walk in the Gorwell bluebells, Sara is redoing her kitchen and wanted to know the name of my cooker in Midhurst, which is of course the same model I have here. We chatted happily about rangement de cuisine and I enjoyed that. I'm looking forward to visiting Dan on the weekend too. These are blessings.