On being flexible

.... and news from the balcony and stuff

There are grapes on the vine, two courgettes, the beginnings of tiny tomatoes, some climbing beans, lots of herbs, pinks, lavender, lemon verbena …. and others. A riot of this and that on my balcony. “It’s quite …. small, your balcony, isn’t it?” said someone for whom size matters …. “is there a design?” I ignore these impertinent queries, nose in air and think kind thoughts.

These are grapes - I don’t know what the strange growths on the vine leaves are …..

It was very hot in the shop yesterday and supplies of ice cream had been laid on for the relief of suffering workers. This was a very good thought, but every single time we said “time for an ice cream” some PESKY person would come in and start trying on clothes and OF COURSE, because of heat and stickiness, nothing worked at all.

It isn’t as if we had anything useful like air conditioning which is the only reason I would go into a shop at the moment. Why? Why on earth would anyone think it a good idea to go into a shop (with no aircon) and “just browse” when they could sit in a darkened room with a fan and read a BOOK? They might even watch tennis, or the Tour de France for the scenery and drama …..

Fortunately I was rota-ed (our lives are dominated by The Rota - a sacred document characterised by great flexibility which means that we never quite know when we are “in” and at what time to begin and stop …) with my friend, for we have become friends, united in disapproval of flexibility, as liking to know when precisely we can do nothing. She informed me she thought she would like to live in the North. I’m not sure whether that was rota related or heat related.

The rota (you see? DOMINATED by the daft thing) and it’s attendant technology, still in its adolescent and unpredictable era, was once organised with an A4 diary and pen. There are now four different Apps, the diary, HIGHLIGHTERS, various spreadsheets on the back of the kitchen door, all OUR diaries and pens, because we have been asked to make a note of what all the Apps are telling us because they are flexible (UNRELIABLE). “Just ironing out the glitches ….”

It has all been very tiresome, and there is absolutely nothing like making a worker bee’s life tiresome to create unrest and awkward questioning thoughts. This period is over (knackering bit this), and resignation, which is the next stage in adjusting to bonkers ideas, took it’s place …. and NOW we have reached the dizzy heights of hilarity and frivolity and it is the butt of jokes and the spreadsheet on the kitchen door becomes more and more illegible as tippex (yes, it still exists) is applied and highlightings in pink and yellow and green (colour coding is vital in these matters) appear.

WhatApping starts. “Just checking I’m meant to be in today? Is that an early or late start? What is the bus timetable?” This last aimed at me as a determined bus user - except when it is hot - there being nothing as hot as a hot bus.

Really, it isn’t as if I was paid much, either!

The heatwave has been strangely BONDING. There are those types who stride about, bronzed and happy as anything in the heat. Not wearing hats. Revoltingly cheerful and full of enjoyment and being positive. And then there are those who come over all pathetic and hug the shady side of the market place, hatted and pallid and drooping about, moaning gently. Or being grumpy and cross. Can go either way.

The Launch Party for our Lit Fest (in Sept) - all Friends and Volunteers and anyone else remotely interested invited - was held on Thursday (v hot day) in the bookshop and I aligned myself with the pathetic moaners, amongst whom was the Lady Mayor(ess) in quite a lot of regalia which I initially thought was extravagant accessorising, but no gown or ceremonial hattery which would have helped identify. I have since sold her two light summer frocks, one formal and the other floaty.

Then I met someone who was leaning against the wall “nice cool wall, this” and entered into LitFest chat - she was a newby volunteer as well - but she had done her homework and read the programme which mysteriously led to the unexpected question “Do you have a partner?” “Eh?” Is this normal for a LitFest chat? Was there Chick Lit involved? When I said “no”, she asked “would I like one? For company?” This was becoming a bit existential and I lost my head and said “God NO, not in this heat!”

It was far too hot to contemplate such a thing, but it did occur to me that she might have had someone up her sleeve and I might have missed something AMAZING because of being inflexible in my approach and overheated. By the time my frazzled brain had had this thought, and I could do something about it, she had moved rapidly on and I learned she was a recently retired prep school teacher (THIS was why she had read the programme ….) who had come back from Salcombe with husband and just finished A Levels daughter for the LAUNCH. “Bother” I thought. And then I thought …. “Prep School….” and recovered my nerve.

I drooped (sic) into the Bookshop yesterday to say thank you for noble party giving in heat and to buy a card for my sister who HAS A DEEP DEEP HATRED OF SEAGULLS because they clunked about on the roof of a holiday chalet she was staying in years ago in a threatening sort of way and DISTURBED HER SLEEP and did unspeakable things to the BINS:

“Seagull and Chips” by Laura Skilbeck Here is her website

The tall and languid assistant and I bonded over heat, and then I met her (in a hat - one of US) in Waitrose standing, possibly unhygienically (this is a real word, I’ve looked it up) close to the cheese shelves for coolth, and we moaned about PEOPLE coming into our shops JUST as we were revving up to shut down and asking for HELP. “Why do they do this? Why? Have they never worked in a shop before?” It was nice and cool by the cheese. And we bonded. We will know who the other is.

Today is blissful Sunday and I am not at work, but sitting on the balcony and thinking about nothing very much apart from just how much stamps now are (card for sister …) and being very pleased that I have the makings of salad for lunch and don’t have to go anywhere at all. Iced coffee is possible. Delicious.

Just to finish off on the subject of flexibility: whilst at the bakers in the village I picked up a “what’s ON” in the village hall and ….. THERE …..(think Damascus Road Moment, Scales Falling From Eyes sort of thing) ….. was “Seated Yoga Tuesday Mornings 10.30” and I thought THAT, that is what I shall do. No lycra. I can’t imagine lycra in such a setting. I shall become flexible but sitting down. Ideal.

I admit that this information has been greeted with disapproval “Must Do Better” in some departments but what they don’t know is that I used to be a skippy agile thing until we returned to England in the middle of winter and lacrosse did for me entirely, soooooo incomprehensible and dangerous, and just not very clever. Galloping about in navy blue with sticks being fiendishly nasty. The mud. Mad.

But seated yoga sounds just the ticket! Who knows what might happen? I might do strength training with weights which is definitely really, really very good for one. AND it is possible to begin with tins of baked beans. Sitting down…..

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