Covid and Devouring Time

I have never (she said, wondering if past bloggy Februarys bear out this claim) in my 70.5 years been so happy to see snow departing and spring bulbs flowering. Look: grass. I'm already planning to have sweet peas clothing that new fence. I'm not terribly good at growing sweet peas but then I've never had a whole bare fence to grow them up before, so I'm hopeful. 

Other than that - the Edinburgh grandchildren have come and built stuff in the sitting room, 

and I've been helping to home school them (why has no single one of our grandchildren's teachers, in five years, yet been able to distinguish between "practice" the noun and "practise" the verb? Biggest Granddaughter had a whole list of spelling words to "practice" writing in sentences today. I know Americans spell them the same way, which is very sensible, but we don't. Yet.)

We sent for new sledges. We're ready for you, next snow! But not till next year, please. 

I always read in the bath and a couple of days ago... the book suddenly tipped over and fell into the water. Ooops. It's not the first time but it doesn't happen very often. I used to have a good bath book-rack - oh well, all right, it was actually a soap-rack - but this became rather elderly and scruffy and I've never found another that fits properly, or at least not one for a non-ridiculous price. So I now use a cheap one that's slightly too small, so of course I don't balance the book on this (too liable to collapse) but on the edge of the bath. From where it tipped. Sorry, selected letters of Vanessa Bell. The book's still perfectly readable but I feel bad. 

Mr L showed a viewer round Daughter 2's Edinburgh flat today. I don't suppose he'll buy it but he seemed more interested than previous viewers. I hope he doesn't offer a ridiculous price, though, causing a dilemma. 

There are rumours that our Great Leader is contemplating easing restrictions, very slowly. But trips to London will probably not be on the cards for months. Maybe we'll be able to go as far as Son's house before that? Who knows? Sometimes it just seems too much to bear. And the days turn to weeks and the weeks turn to months and the months nearly add up to a year already. Devouring Time. I definitely need to start a quilt.