Sunday, April 19, 2020


This photo is from my days at the Arts Club Theatre. Our show was El Grande de Coca Cola; it was a musical, costume and prop heavy silly show that was a blast to work. Front row: Beth (left), Lani and Annabel; Aleck, Andy and Simon (left to right) are in the back. This photo is of the company as they were walking to have publicity shots taken.
We had a sprinkling of rain Friday night that I welcomed. But Saturday morning dawned nicely and so I had lovely weather in which to finish the toting and stacking the wood. 
I did not go into it enthusiastically. I was a reluctant toter and stacker yesterday, but by -thirty I’d done seven loads and I knew that I’d be able to finish the job before my two-thirty dog date with Anna and Gunther.
After a short rest, I was back at it. And then, as I completed getting load number nine into the wheelbarrow, I heard a very loud rumbling crash. I knew what had happened: My woodpile had collapsed—not all of it, just all I’d done on Friday and yesterday morning. I had to re-pile all that wood in order to be able to get my wheelbarrow into the shed to unload number nine and so I could do loads ten through fifteen.
It was dreadful work, standing on an unstable moraine of wood and re-piling it. It took forever—at least it felt like it did. But I did it, changed into dry clothes and then I finished stacking all the remaining wood from the driveway. I felt euphoric when I’d finished. I put off cleaning up the tarpaulin in order to rest and have my lunch. I was absolutely gutted by all the work. But it’s over for another year! Hurray! 
After lunch, I cleaned up the tarp and put it away before going to meet Anna and Minjou, Gunther and Zooey. It was nice to relax in the sunshine, talk with my friends (from a distance) and watch the dogs play together. Plus, it was nice and warm.
And Anna gave me a Chestnut Tree. I must get a cage for it from the hardware store so that the Deer don’t eat it. I’m going to plant it at the far end of my front yard to help obscure the neighbour’s yard where their kids play. I don’t want them to see my moonlight Satanic rituals; they might be sensitive to animal sacrifice and nudity.
(I’m kidding readers who don’t know me. I have disrespectful sense of humour.)
When I got home, I watched the trailer for Twelfth Night, next week’s offering by the National Theatre. I’m definitely going to watch it (even though it’s Shakespeare), because it looks like a light and very modern and stylistic take on the script.
(I took every course of Shakespeare offered at UBC when I was there, plus I took a discussion course on him and did a major thesis on him and the nature of theatre in his day. It’s not that I don’t like Shakespeare, it’s that I’ve studied him so much and seen his plays so, so often, I’m just tired, of and by, that language—especially on film. I prefer live productions of his plays.)
In the evening, I looked at all my new books, plus my other unread books and read about them all in order to choose what I’m going to read first. Yum! And I kept saying to myself: “It’s done. It’s done!”
I also got a huge load of laundry done and hung up outside. I absolutely love doing laundry when I can use the clothesline to dry everything. It gets such a nice smell (and I think the rain last night did away with much of the pollen, so my laundry won’t turn yellow).
This morning starts with a dog walk with Eoin and Fran├žois and their Whippets. After that, I want to finish sewing the wildflowers into my Campion garden and then all I want to do is read and soak in the spa after all the hard work of yesterday. At four, I'm Zooming with a dear bunch of friends, and tonight, Call the Midwife and World on Fire (featuring the remarkably untalented Helen Hunt).

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