Off to a Hog Roast this afternoon. As one of my favourite crime novels centred round such an event I have great hopes of a dramatic time. In the story the unlikeable hostess ends up in the roaster. This one is organised by the Rotary Club and I'm not sure the roaster could get them all in in one go.
We have had every sort of weather this week: snow that closed the passes; east winds with sleety rain; wild wind that stopped the ferries running; and now almost-scorching sunshine. Yesterday I went for a walk on a nearby beach where surfers were chilly their bits catching huge waves. The sky was an amazing blue and perfectly clear. No, of course I didn't have my camera. I shall take it today and hope to remember to use it.
Because a friend has been mopping up the Wagner season BBC Radio 3 have been doing, I 've started watching a production of the Ring cycle lent to me by the ex. I have to time it so I watch early afternoon or I fall asleep and have to do a bit again. I've no pretentious to understanding music but can tell it's Good Stuff (though the Rhine Maidens do rather give me the pip. they go on so and are so high). I much prefer the giants; their gigantic music is truly impressive.
The allergies that thrive in the spring tra la! have also been giving me the pip. Cortisone has been on the menu again and I'd quite forgotten how nasty it is. It also keeps me awake at night, something I hadn't noticed before, probably because I was taking it such a lot and we can get used to anything if we have to. I resort to melatonin but when I come round in the morning I'm fit for nothing, have black rings under my eyes and am very grumpy. Good thing there's no-one else here.
The sad news's that after 10 years of placidly comfortable life Sandy's rabbit had to put to sleep because she had an enormous growth that was growing so fast the vet claimed she could almost see the cells divide under the microscope. Little Miss Velvet had cataracts and was deaf, so for the last year she has been living in Sandy's bedroom, sleeping often on his pillow (until Chloe went in to separate them) and never going further than the end of the wooly rug during the day when she was let out of her very comfortable accommodation. She seemed happy enough and then suddenly last week she didn't. It's easy to tell when an animal has had enough. very difficult and upsetting for Sanders of course. He takes everything so hard, and although he is rapidly approaching 6' he is still a child. To my surprise the school have been really good and let him go home to grieve. Obviously G'stoun has come a long way from the era of cold showers and stiff upper lips, for which we are all grateful.
My ex and his wife have finished translating a paper on the Right to Die. It was written by her brother, in french since he is Belgian, and was probably a therapeutic exercise for him since his wife died a year or so back and they had to run the gamut of Belgian laws for her to be able to choose her moment. At least it is possible there. The paper has been published on a Scottish site the name of which I forget but I don't suppose any of you folk will actually want to read it. I do find that sort of thing interesting in moderation. D tends to wallow in it given half a chance. I'm not sure if that means she's facing up to death better or is more frightened of it than me. Could be either reason really.
That's about it for now.