The day was dominated by a 5.5 hour long house-wide clean-up party. The place really needed it. The children are a force of nature.

The messes defy reason. Example: A mound of shoes by front door contains nine flip flops, one pair and seven singletons. A girl’s sweater behind the couch. Whose is it? One of my oldest daughter’s friends who happens to be here says ” I think it’s mine.” It is. There is about a bushel of socks which are in places they do not belong.

While I am crawling on the floor to pick stuff up, the five year old repeatedly flings himself on me, by surprise attack whenever possible.

But when I finally finished, I got myself a drink and a book and sat out on the porch in the magnificent weather.

Andrew Robert’s biography of Lord Salisbury, Victorian Titan is a brilliant book about an amazing man, who seems to have been almost completely forgotten.

I have a practice of having books in different parts of the house, so that I can read them when I am there and have a few spare minutes or seconds. I have one for the kitchen, which is usually long and can be read bit by bit. The Salisbury, which is too big to schlep around in a briefcase, was that until I finished it today.

Having finished the life of Robert Gascoyne-Cecil, 3rd Marquess of Salisbury, and pausing only briefly to mourn his passing, I got another drink and another book.

Roger Knight, The Pursuit of Victory: The Life and Achievement of Horatio Nelson, another brick of a biography, is very good so far, halfway into the second chapter.

14 thoughts on “Sunday”

  1. Well, at least you didn’t discover any petrified cat c**p and/or vomit underneath the den sofa, after wondering for weeks where that smell was coming from.
    Yeah, I suck as a housekeeper, and my daughter prefers to housekeep for outside agents who spend money for her housekeeping talents.

    Or did you indeed discover really unsavory things, underneath the heavy furniture? Inquiring minds want to know.

  2. Candy wrappers and Popsicle sticks, used Kleenex.

    Nothing too horrible.

    No Popeyes bag with chicken bones … this time.

    The dogs go outside, reliably.

  3. I must say I am shocked it took so long for this highly pertinent question to surface. Jason, it is good to see someone around here is focused on the important stuff.

    The drinks were ice, tonic water, vodka (Smirnoff, adequate for a mixed drink) and fresh squeezed lime juice — 2 limes — hence the green tinge. My fruit squeezer is one of those old fashioned glass ones I got at a yard sale, like this. The drinks were large, strong, cold and nicely sour. All very informal, stirred in the glass with the knife I cut the limes with.

  4. As we come to the end of a cold, wet summer day with torrential rain (just goes to show that Britain is falling apart – oh no, wait, this is the archetypal British summer) The description of that drink made me shiver. What’s wrong with a hot toddy, I ask myself. But congratulations on finishing Salisbury. I am nowhere near that stage.

  5. No. I was trying to italicize just one word and it all went wrong. Thank you for correcting it. I can’t quite work out how to edit comments once I have rather foolishly pressed “Submit Comment”.

  6. You cannot figure it out because … You can’t .

    It was a hot day in the Midwest, requiring a cold drink.

  7. Glass citrus juicers are, indeed, of primary importance. But I do use an electric juicer when I am making marmalade. The alternative is a permanently disabled wrist. Oh and the sun is out in London but it is cool. Darn English summers. They just don’t change.

  8. “You cannot figure it out because … You can’t .”

    This is true except if it is a comment on one of your own posts. In that case, you can go in and change a comment.

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