November 7th. -- Plant the indoor bulbs. Just as I am in the middle of them, Lady Boxe calls. I say, untruthfully, how nice to see her, and beg her to sit down while I just finish the bulbs. Lady B. makes determined attempt to sit down in armchair where I have already placed two bulb-bowls and the bag of charcoal, is headed off just in time, and takes the sofa.
Do you know, she asks, how very late it is for indoor bulbs? September, really, or even October, is the time. Do I know that the only reliable firm for hyacinths is somebody from Haarlem? Cannot catch the name of the firm, which is Dutch, but reply Yes, I do know, but think it my duty to buy Empire products. Feel at the time, and still think, that this is an excellent reply. Unfortunately Vicky comes into the drawing-room later and says: "O Mumie, are those the bulbs we got at Woolworths?"
Lady B. stays to tea. (Mem.: Bread-and-butter too thick. Speak to Ethel.) We talk some more about bulbs, the Dutch School of Paintings, our Vicar's wife, sciatica, and All Quiet on the Western Front.
(Query: Is it possible to cultivate the art of conversation when living in the country all year round?)
Britta says: I LOVE the hilarious books by E.M.Delafield - read them often - and just in time: November is coming near, and I have planted a few bulbs of snowdrops - "a few" means: 7 - hahaha, that is the number of snowdrops that were in the bag.
Well - I garden on the balcony, and only in one box I planted perennials, and there I put the little bulbs in between. Am curious whether they manage...
