A quince, a canvas and a quiz

5 August, in the year of our Lord 2020

Up, but another desperate day and it will not stop raining, only on Friday since, I think, when we had a heat wave for 4 Hrs., and on Monday when the sun was enough to sit in it; but a sorry summer so far. I would trim my lawn again save for the wetness, which I have done myselfe these four months, for John my man who cuts the grass has not been, nor left any word. The other day, which was Wednesday of last week, came Mr. Ben. Jones, which was nice to see, and the rain stopped for a few minutes; and he was spruce and handsome, and has lost a little weight, I think; and we did have some merry discourse, he telling me that my furryapple tree is a Quince, not an aprycotte, and it will have a fine crop, which I hope it will have, though I know not what to do with a quince save a jellie, which I have never made; and also there are two tiny trees, no bigger than will fill a pot, which they are in, one apiece, which are pink peppercornes, he says, which are much to my liking for their scented flavour, and turning pink now.
  A week since, to Crick Heath for my painting which I did commission in June, not from Cooper who did the little painting of my wife but from a new man, which is a Mr. D. Grosevener; and I am mightily contented with it, and think it will look fine in my house, on a wall, and perhaps the finest I have since it is of my own garden, in a summer when the sun shone, so I can see what my own flowers looks like in sunlight for a change; but it will need a frame, which I have left it for in St. Marys-in-the-Hollow, though it will take four weeks, which is longer than it took to paint it, and 7l 10s. At dinner, my heel sore again, with a crack to the skin, which will need a remedie.
  On Saturday came Mr. M. Jones for supper, and for a kind of competition, with questions on the magic screen, which we have done before and once came second, made for everyone by Mr. T. Radford, with others in attendance; only that every time we are asked about Musicke Mr. Jones says, ‘Oh, I know that one!’ but can remember not the name of it nor the singer of it, so it is a poor round for us since I know naught of Musicke since that modernist Mr. H. Purcelle, in whose werke I find little good matter, and Mr. Radford does not ask about the theorbo, which I could answer. For supper beforehand, eat a savory dish from Italie, took away from the little town on the river Quevney, which was a dough made in a big circle and cooked in an oven fired with wood, with tomato on top and cheese, and more, bespoke, mine being with capers and Anchoveys, and for Mr. Jones one he called ‘Surf and Turf’ which I did not understand, though to hear it said describes very well the nature of my contract with John the gardener. And so, we coming 4th. in the Competitione, though to my great content correctlie identifying a drawing of a crickette pitch, for ‘Sport & Leisure’ is not a strength, to bed.

By andywmacfarlane

I am a retired medic who likes messing around with a bit of writing, and friends seemed to like my social media postings of "Samuel Pepys: The Covid Diaries". So I'm having a go at blogging them.

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