So, I Didn't Sew Today After All

 



Instead I did getting-ready-for-winter stuff like: replaced the weatherstripping around the front door,

and put plastic over the window at the head of my bed (because it's the only window in the house that doesn't shut right and the wind blows out of the north-northwest right into that window and right on me when I'm sleeping), then I carried in the patio umbrella (pouring rusty water out of the pole onto my shoe *sigh*)


 

I went to Fleet Farm for the weatherstripping and some birdseed and found a display of amaryllis bulbs so I got one.  A red one.  I haven't had tons of luck with them but as they say, hope springs eternal.  If all goes well I should have a beautiful red flower at Christmas.  If all goes well.





It was really bird time this morning.  There was a stand-off between a Bluejay and a squirrel.  I think the squirrel won.







There was a fourth Bluejay with this gang that flew away just as I picked up the camera and




the Red-bellied Woodpecker was back.  It's a female; I can tell because the red on her head doesn't go all the way down to her beak,

I was pleasantly surprised to see a Cardinal at the feeder this morning too, as well as the usual contingent of Sparrows, Juncos, and Mourning Doves.  OJ asked what that bird was yesterday and when I said it was a Mourning Dove he asked why and I was glad to be able to give an answer.  It's named that because the sound it makes sounds sad.




 
Once all that was done I watched the latest episode of The Great British Baking Show on Netflix (I'm addicted) while knitting on the next cast sock.  I went up a couple needle sizes so it has a chance to actually fit someone's toes and cast.


On my way to Fleet Farm I stopped for a flu shot at Walgreens.  Yippee.  I got the double-strength one they save for old people.  Sometimes it sucks to be over 65 but this isn't one of them.  I'd rather be a little more uncomfortable for a couple days and have better immunity from whatever flu floats around this year.  I hear that the flu season in Australia was brutal this year.  Double yippee.

26 October--Barbara Malcolm, Spies Don't Retire. 

Major Clemment stood erect as he listened to the ring tone.  Almost before the first ring had ended it was answered.

A quavery voice said, “Hello?”

Without any preamble, George said, “Colonel Roskova, we need to meet.”

“Meet?”

George could hear the rasp off too many cigarettes in the Russian’s voice.  “Yes,” he said, “I think it is important that we meet.  Today.”

After a pause came the reply.  “I am not feeling well…

It took all George’s self-control not to shout into the phone, dammit, man, show a little backbone; you were a professional.  He knew he had to insist.  “But we will meet nevertheless.”

There was a long pause, so long that George thought that Dimitri might have hung up, but then his answer came.  “Da.  Okay.  Where?”

“I think the Rose Inn in Rincon would be a good place.  It’s out of the way and quiet this time of year.”

There was a bit more strength in the response this time.  “Yes.”

“Say, in an hour?”

“Okay, I be there.”

George waited for the click as Dimitri hung up, then he waited thirty seconds more to listen for anyone else on the line or the telltale hum of a recording device.

“You’re meeting him.”

George turned to face Sonia standing in the kitchen doorway.  “Yes, I am.  I thought we needed to get some things settled.”

“You don’t think his scared rabbit impression last night settled things?”  She sat at the table and George got a cup and saucer from the cupboard, poured her a cup, and set it in front of her.  “Thank you, darling.”  She caught his hand and pressed it to her cheek.  “I thought we were finished with all this.”

He poured himself coffee into a mug showing Freddie Mercury on one side and his band Queen’s 1982 tour dates on the other.  The mug had been his last year’s Christmas gift from his niece who said since Uncle George had spent all those years working for the Queen, he should have a Queen mug.  He had told his family that he had a boring, mid-level, paper-pushing position in the British Fisheries Department, which prevented many of his farmer and store manager relatives from asking too many questions.  Although they did then tend to ask him to get them high-quality Dover sole for next to nothing for their dinner parties.  He developed quite a nice network of fishmongers to keep the charade afloat.

He sipped the rich brew.  “I thought I was finished with all this too.  But here he is, a fact I can’t ignore.”  Sonia hummed as she sipped her coffee, her pinky elevated as if she were at an elegant tea party.  George went on.  “We met a few times over the years.  I always thought he was made of steel; the man last night and the one I just spoke with on the phone sounded like he wouldn’t have made a decent courier, much less an agent.”

“Maybe he was afraid of that harpy of a wife.  She is the most snobbish and unpleasant woman I think I’ve ever had the displeasure to meet.”

“Now, my dear, more unpleasant that poor Fred Matthews wife?”

Sonia laughed.  “No. No one was worse than Louisa Matthews.  How anyone could be that unhappy and spiteful I can’t understand.”  She shook her head at the memory.  “Anyway, I’m sure we can just avoid the Roskovas.  Why do you have to stir the pot by meeting him?”

Having finished his coffee, he stood, rinsed his mug, and set it on the drain board.  “Because I don’t want to spend my retirement dodging around an island this small, trying to stay out of their way.  Plus after last night’s spectacle, everyone will be talking.  We need to get our stories straight.  I’d better get ready; we’re meeting at seven-thirty.”  He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and went upstairs to shower, shave, and dress.  In a very few minutes, he was back, jingling his keys and whistling.

“Won’t you be early?” Sonia said.  “Didn’t you always say that the first one to a meeting gave up power?”

“I did, and one does.”  His smile reminded his wife of a shark.  “I want to do a bit of reconnoitering first.”  He gave her a roguish wink, patted her bottom, and left.

He stood a moment gazing at his vehicle.  After an adulthood of driving nondescript consular and government cars, he had decided he needed something a bit flashier.  When they’d arrived on the island, the choices had been limited.  Most were foreign made, Toyotas and Hondas.  Finally at a dealership tucked behind a warehouse on the far north of the island he’d found his dream ride.  It was a big shiny navy blue Range Rover with a glittering chrome roof rack and an ostentatious rhino guard covering the radiator.  Since the largest mammal roaming the island was a wild donkey, George thought the rhino guard was overkill.  But George was British through and through, and liked the idea of a British made vehicle, so he’d bought it.

The look on Sonia’s face when he’d driven up to the house in the massive thing had been comical.  “You do realize that that, thing, is wider than some of the roads?” she had said.

“I do.  For once in my life, people will have to get out of my way.  I’m done skulking in the shadows.”

OJ asked about Halloween decorations so we went downstairs and found my big spiders to hang on the door.  In fact he wanted to sleep with them "because they're fluffy and soft" but I told him that they were filled with wires that would poke him.  He agreed that looking at them was better than getting poked by them.  Smart kid.

I'll sew tomorrow.  G'night.
--Barbara