We have got some lovely scented Scottish soap in our shower.
It smells beautiful. It is called Wild Scottish Heather soap, and it smells very nice indeed.
Inexplicably, however, it seems to be stuffed full of bits of actual heather. These made a dreadful mess in the bottom of the bath and made the soap feel peculiarly lumpy. I will never understand the Scots, what an odd thing to do.
I am now looking askance at the other one that we bought, which is called Bog Myrtle And Wild Roses.
Ablutions might turn out to be rather bracing for a while.
We had an early shower because some friends were coming to see us. We are making up for lost bat-flu-imprisonment time now, and being splendidly sociable. Regrettably we mistimed the showering bit rather badly, and so when they arrived we were still wafting about in bath towels, hunting through drawers for appropriate underwear.
This did not help the impression of airy middle-class sophistication I had been hoping to give, but they were busy trying to find somewhere in the conservatory where they could sit out of the reach of the more troubling plants, and so did not mind at all. After a couple of gin cocktails they had forgotten all about it anyway.
We had a very nice time. It is ace to know that having friends to dinner is no longer a crime.
I am starting on this very late, because of course once they had gone home we had to start on the washing up, which even though we had foregone cooking in favour of a shared Chinese takeaway, was still abundant.
This will not be the case for very much longer, because we have purchased a new dishwasher.
We went out to Currys this afternoon and listened to a teenager in a mask explaining to us the difference between a freestanding and an integral dishwasher. The distinction still escapes me, and I am not sure which sort we have bought in the end, so if it comes home and we can’t get it into the hole I do not know what we will do.
It might not go into the hole anyway, because the kitchen units are all standing in holes slightly below floor level. This is so that the work surfaces are at a pleasing height to be used by somebody of my limited stature. Mark says that he is not sure how he is going to get the old one out, and thinks that he might have to take the whole side of the kitchen out. I do not mind this, because he might be able to put some hot water into it whilst he is doing it.
He went to the farm to weed his vegetable plot this morning, and came home saying that it was all doing well, but would have been doing better if it had not had some escaped sheep in it. We are going to have parsnips and carrots and courgettes, all of which I can put into cakes if Boris Johnson makes all other cake ingredients illegal.
I have added a picture of the conservatory at night, and I am not going to write any more because I have got to go to bed.
See you tomorrow.
