Two men, one bitch

John Crace would be hard put to find a "Digested read, digested" phrase for the Marriage of Figaro, the opera: my title to this post, for instance, only partially unlocks the plot. And in Richard Eyre's production at the Met, relayed last night to our Cineworld, Marlis Petersen's Susanna is anything but bitchy. In fact I thought all the women excellent, and the set and costume designs (stand up Rob Howell) were a dream. What a unique masterpiece Mozart gave us!

Hopeful

I did dog duty this morning. Caroline was off to set up a stall at a car boot sale: not for all the tea in China would I have joined her.

I walked back home from halfway up Leckhampton Hill: I suppose Floss "walked" five times - at least - further than I did.

The invasion...

...has arrived. Edmund yesterday brought the three grandchildren to stay - on and off till the end of the holidays.

Caroline has set them tasks: William was on raspberry-picking this morning. "Have you been eating them?" I asked, as he presented the container half-filled. "I haven't had any out of the bowl," he replied.

Obviously destined for a career in diplomacy.

Tangled legs

The day started early and badly. I fell down stairs. As I was carrying half a mug of tea, it seems to have splashed every surface of the hall. Luckily, it happened only two steps from the bottom, so it was just my pride that was wounded.

Caroline (leaving early for Oxford) dropped me by Leckhampton church before seven so I could walk the dog for her. The light was good, but taking photographs I always find flare a problem when there's low sun. Perhaps it's the lingering influence of our visit to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park last week that these two logs caught my eye, lying by the path on my way back home.

Seven plus

No grandchildren, but all four children were with us for lunch today - plus Mini; and it's always difficult to prevent Caroline's dog from muscling in on the act. ("No balls inside, Floss!")

Godchildren

Caroline and I have between us collected quite a gaggle of Godchildren. It's nice when we have visits from them. Last week, Caroline's Godson and his newish wife came to stay: yesterday, my violinist Goddaughter arrived for the night, our reason for booking tickets for the concert I mentioned. She's been at another this morning, before joining us for lunch in the garden afterwards.

A great pleasure, but I was sad to reflect on how small a part I had had in her musical flowering: yesterday was the first time I had ever taken her along to a concert.

Dropping off at the Pump Room, I saw Festival Director Meurig Bowen, who handed me a copy of his 70th Anniversary Festival book: it's a beautifully put together assembly of all the programme covers over the years - plus a few photographs at the end (two by me).

Farewheel

Caroline has said a sad goodbye to her pottery wheel. With minimal hassle, it fitted very snugly into the car of friends who took it to a new home in London.

"When Chris shall come..."

Another funeral at St Gregory's, the second within a week. Today's affair was rather less meaningful, I felt. The feeling started during the entrance hymn, "How Great Thou Art" when (as prompted by the service sheet - replenished with typos throughout) I found myself about to sing "When Chris shall come..." The deceased, who often had a twinkle in his eye, would perhaps have joined in the giggles.

"How great thou art" comes to mind also when I walk in or near Coldwell Bottom. Not for the first time has it featured to illustrate a freeranger post. Despite too much conifer planting and the distant pylons beyond the Churn valley, this beautiful view often remains the one I'm drawn to when - as this morning - obliged to take over the dog run.

Root ball

Ten years ago, we inherited two ornamental box trees from my mother. They fitted easily into the car, as they lived in plastic flowerpots on her tarmac driveway. We decanted them into the soil of our back garden, placing them as sentinels at what was then the end of our vegetable patch.

Well, the vegetables have crept well beyond their previously tolerated limit and the trees have grown considerably. So, it's been decided they must go - in the interests of food security. Caroline managed to move one before Christmas, and it's now settled in elsewhere in the garden (we hope). The other - much larger - remains, so far resisting our efforts to uncover its roots in full. The axe hovers.

Playtime

With the sun shining today, we put a hammock out for the first time this year. Ida is staying the weekend. "Can I come on one of your long walks with you?" she (promisingly) asked.

Floss at 4

It's hard to keep the dog confined to the boot of our car at the best of times, but worse when Thomas is travelling with us: we picked him up from Newbury station this afternoon, over for a long weekend from Lisbon. Ah well, it was Floss's birthday, so I suppose this once...

Winter at last

The snow lies thick now, and it's due to last for weeks! So, thank goodness nobody is planning going far this weekend - at least now that Agnes brought forward her trip to Oxford and we have cancelled our book group meeting in Worcester tomorrow. I have had sinusitis all week, so today was the first day I felt like putting my nose outside for any length of time - to walk along and collect a prescription. I must have been feeling below par to skip going to the National Theatre's Cineworld relay of "The Magistrate" last night: I was looking forward to it. Instead, we have Ida to entertain us.

Leckhampton Hill

We awoke to find the garden sprinkled lightly with snow. With the sun shining, I was encouraged to join Caroline on her morning dog walk - up on the side of Leckhampton Hill. Approaching from Daisybank, the view suddenly unfolds, with the Malverns (today) a misty blur. Walking across the ridge and furrow, you come to the point where I took this photograph: the Horse Monument, with St Bartholomew's, Churchdown in the distance.

Alien visitor

Thomas has been in England for the past fortnight, working in London: he hired a car yesterday, for a brief country visit before he returns to Lisbon tomorrow. Good to see him, especially as he brought brandy for me. (All I gave him in return was a sandwich.)

Portuguese austerity affects his decision about taking on new staff, he says. Otherwise he seems sanguine about life there. Or possibly he may move to... Canada. As someone who has never given a serious thought to residing outside England, I am constantly bewildered by the unrootedness of today's yoof. Not to mention, naturally, their carbon footprint.

Raspberries

Edmund and the boys have been here today, raiding the garden for raspberries as always - it's a long season with us.

Dog days

It's hot with us, at last - and will be as hot again tomorrow, says the forecast. And our dog days have begun in another sense with the arrival yesterday of Floss, from her former home in Ludlow. Thus ends a period of 228 blissful - for me, but not for Caroline - dog-free days: no worries about having to go out for a walk in the pouring rain, or what to do if we are off abroad. And - in Floss' case - no constant importuning to throw a tennis ball across the lawn.