Ruby Grimshaw takes life at a tortoise pace

I had just pulled up outside my house one day in early March, having spent all morning at the riding school. It was still extremely cold, I could hardly feel my feet and I was thinking about my warm house and imagining the steaming cup of coffee I was about to make. Suddenly there was a loud burst of tinny music and around the corner trundled an ice-cream van. It came to a halt at the kerb opposite and I was very tempted to go across and ask the smiley driver if he was serving hot soup. At least he wasn’t playing last year’s incessant ‘Teddy Bear’s Picnic’. I could not identify his tune at all, but I expect I will do before the summer’s out.

So spring has arrived. As have my builders to do the loft. My bedroom is now freezing and when at the computer I wear my overcoat, bedsocks, jodhpur boots (much warmer than slippers) and a scarf. An unsympathetic friend said that writing in a cold garret used to be the norm and it might improve my skill. She is now an acquaintance.

“They mooch around my kitchen until it is warm enough to go out into the garden”

Also, the tortoises have woken up, or more correctly I have awoken them. They were definitely not amused, but they went to bed so early last year I couldn’t risk leaving them any longer. They are now mooching around my kitchen until it is warm enough to go out into the garden. My tortoise bible says that if they are not eating within a week after coming out of hibernation I must rush them to a vet. Since I had to go to Sevenoaks last time I needed an exotic pet vet I was very pleased when they started nibbling dandelion leaves after a few days. However, everyone knows what goes in must come out, and unfortunately they reached the next health mile- stone while Daughter C was down for the weekend and I was spending the day blissfully meditating at the Buddhist Centre.

C moaned that her cherished lie in was broken by loud banging, which made her think that I employed zealous builders who worked on a Sunday (bashing into each other is tortoise foreplay). Sadly, clearing up three lots of smelly tortoise mess prevented Daughter C from appreciating how wonderful it was that Mr T, Brian and Ernie have all come safely through another year’s hibernation. I fear that I have incurred a huge favour which is definitely going to be called in by Daughter C sometime soon.