new lights and even more plants

I did an extra day at the plant centre today, as it's a busy time of year for us.  We hold an annual jamboree for customers this coming weekend, with free cake, and are still restocking with ever more plants ready for then.  Another lorry load arrived, and many of the herbaceous plants that came in a while back, when we did the potting, have now sprouted new leaves and are indubitably alive and fit for sale (we try to make sure that herbaceous plants are alive before selling them.  It isn't always obvious in the depths of winter).

It was a very grey and cold day, but looking on the bright side the electrician arrived to fit new lights in the shop.  The old lights only came on spasmodically when switched on, which made it difficult sometimes to see the till, or the display stands of seeds, and work done weeding pots at the back of the shop in between serving at the till was apt to turn out only half done when exposed to the full glare of day.  The new lights are much brighter, which I appreciate, having reached an age where my ability to read in a dim light is not what it was.  I expect the customers will appreciate not having to peer at the seeds in Stygian gloom.

The gamekeeper's wife came in to buy some herbs, and departed muttering darkly that that was another thing for the chickens to eat.  I wonder if he has told her that they are going to have one of the peacocks.  This was hatched on the premises last year, but has turned out to be a male.  The boss doesn't want a second male, and was saying the gamekeeper had agreed to take it.  I enquired anxiously whether this meant it was going to be eaten (like going for its holidays in Chicken Run) but was assured that, no, the gamekeeper likes the peacocks.

The dog wandered off again, and we were instructed to catch her and put her in the house.  I came face to face with her while on the telephone to a customer, whom I passed in rather a rush to a colleague after explaining that I had to catch the dog.  Luckily the customer was nice about it, and said that she had a dog like that.  The dog was damp, muddy and looked very pleased with herself.  She only managed to lick my face once as I carried her up to the office.  I don't know what Mary Portas would make of it all.