Good riddance

Monday February 28, 2005

That about wraps it up for February, I suppose. A dreary, unfriendly kind of month it’s been here in Lincolnshire. Or, at least, that’s the way it feels. When I look back through my notes I find it’s been sunny at least as often as it’s been grey, and I’ve had some lovely days revelling in the signs of approaching Spring. Makes no difference. My recollection of the month is of a cold, dark and inhospitable period and I’m glad to see the back of it.

If we were still on the Julian calendar tomorrow would be New Year’s. That’s a nice thought. The start of a whole new year, with days growing longer, nights getting shorter, and daffodils spearing up to the sky like heralds of better things to come.

Except that we’re not on the Julian calendar, so tomorrow is nothing more than the First of March.

Oh, boy, I’ve not much enjoyed February, though. If March comes in like a lion and departs like a lamb I’ll be pleased enough. It feels as though February started off tasting of cold mutton, and has ended feeling like nothing so much as a greasy stew made of scrag end. Hey ho. I’ll do the big shudder thing and get on with whatever comes next.

Graham spent his working day peeling wallpaper from the dining room walls, ending up ankle deep in clammy steamed litter. Always smells slightly evil, does that, rather like the pavements in Notting Hill the morning after the Carnival. Unlike the poor souls who have to scrape that mess up however, Graham simply pulled up the thin plastic sheet he’d taped over the floor, bundled it and the litter together, and jammed it into a black trash bag.

“There you go,” he said. “All done and dusted.”

“You’re a hard working and industrious little chicken. And, yer know wot? The room looks better with scabrous, undecorated walls that it ever did with that uninspired wallpaper.”

“That it does. Bigger, too.”

“What would you like for your dinner, then, as a reward?”

“Oh, I dunno. Thrill me.”

So I did. Roast chicken, boiled cabbage, roast potatoes, yorkshire puddings and thick brown gravy. We pushed our plates back, sighed contentedly, and decided that a light dessert of plum yoghurt was all we needed to round it off.

Then we watched some emminently forgettable movie on TV, cleared up, and slipped away Lethe-wards.

And, like I started out to say, that really does wrap it up for February. Good riddance.


Stickford Feb 28,'05
Scabrous, undecorated walls



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