Fortunately I got all of my washing dry before the rain started.
It has been a warm, dry day, and I have occupied it mostly by cleaning things. Monday is my cleaning day when Mark is at work. I washed all of the sheets and pegged them on the line, and bleached the teabags and went through the house scrubbing things.
This is much easier than it was last week, because the whole top two floors of the house are not being used any more. I am trying to encourage Mark to think of ways we could move our bed downstairs into the kitchen. If we did this there would be hardly any housework left to do at all.
Despite the day’s sunshine it is not warm and dry any more. It has become cold, and wet, and I think that after my next customer I am going to go home and put my sheepskin boots on.
It was sunny this morning, and the dogs and I went off up to the top of the fell. I am pleased to be able to tell you that I have not become quite as flabbily decrepit as I had imagined, and it turns out that I can still run a bit. I ran quite a bit of the way, although not nearly as much as I used to, and felt surprised and pleased with myself. It has got easier now that I have got to hang about waiting for Roger Poopy’s father, which gives me chance to get my breath back in between bouts of exertion.
Lucy rang up just after we had pegged up the last slope to the summit. I puffed and wheezed down the phone at her for a while, but in the end just hung up and sent her a text.
The consequence of all this virtuous activity was that I was absolutely wiped out for the rest of the day. Obviously I carried on with the things that I was supposed to be doing, but they had become a creaky affair I can tell you. Cleaning a bathroom is hard work when your knees are trying to give up and fold themselves into an off-duty position.
I felt a sneaking envy for Roger Poopy’s father, who crawled on to their quilt underneath the coffee table and nodded off for the rest of the afternoon.
Roger Poopy joined him for a little while, but soon became bored and went back to his normal afternoon occupation of barking at everybody who walked past, in between trying to tunnel his way through the floor of the conservatory to next door.
I am not sure if this is intended as an escape route. He is keeping it a secret by eating the soil as he digs it. Mark says that this might mean he is short of some mineral or other, but I am not going to purchase a mineral supplement that he seems to be getting for nothing out of the ground, and so I am just letting him carry on. Maybe when he has finished we can lay gas pipes down it or something.
I am looking forward to the conservatory being finished. It will be nice not to spend all of my waking hours in the underground kitchen, as if I was the world’s oldest modern-day tweeny.
A man has just come up to the taxi rank and discovered that he can not afford a taxi. He seems to have concluded that the best way to persuade one of us to give him a discount is to storm around bellowing abuse at us all. Sometimes I feel that people do not entirely think these things through.
I have got my sheepskin boots on now.
That has improved life.
Have a picture of my walk.
Oliver has written another post, just so you know.
