Virtue its own Punishment

So, Da Godmother is come among us and we have been all over. This afternoon though she is taking Felix, or he her, on the definitive sunglasses hunt, with digressions. I am husbanding my energies for the Rose Tour tomorrow, when we will learn how to distill essence from the petals. Very heaven.

I pottered this morning, making bread and candle, whacking in all protruding nails from the recycled timbers, potting up cuttings, spreading fertiliser and joy wherever I go. The net looks functional and handsome draped along the fence, and the buoys and floats tactfully point up that it is a fishing net, yes! I have a long thin mirror behind the old lilies in an attempt to give them more light - I moved most of them to a sunny spot before I raised the bed but two stay-behinds have struggled through the extra twelve inches of soil and I haven't the heart to ignore such gallantry.

Yesterday after lunch with Cissy at the Half Day I frogmarched Eileen to Bare Escentuals and we had a very satisfactory session. She hates foundation so I have been touting these powders as if I owned shares, and I thought she looked wonderful. We got talking about eyebrows and I ended up redoing the makeup artists' so I was a happy missionary. I love eyebrows.

We then visited a grim commune in Tiburon with Stefan, luxurious, unfocussed and joyless. Once we had handed over the lens rings and seen the grounds I couldn't wait to get out of there but managed to be in good-visitor mode right until someone demonstrated the vibrating plate in the gym. Straight face very hard to maintain. They have a gym, and employ gardeners. Heretics.