I didn’t do the gin in the end.
I went to Booths for some gluten free bread and made a buffet, the sort with lots of interesting cheese and olives and hummus.
The only problem is that of course it didn’t all get eaten and now I have got a fridge full of interesting cheese and olives and hummus, none of which I will eat in case I get fat.
I have eaten rather a lot of it already. Fortunately Mark will be coming back this time next week, and it will still be edible.
Somehow it seems to have occupied the whole day.
The kitten declined to join in. I thought that it might be an entertaining lunch guest, but it took one look at the assembled gathering and removed itself to the office windowsill where it snored for the rest of the afternoon.
The dogs joined in, as they always do when people are eating interesting things, and there is a possibility that somebody might share.
I shared a bit. Rosie’s disappointment when her requests for cheese were declined was too heartbroken for me not to sympathise.
I had to tidy up the conservatory again. It seemed that yesterday’s attempts were completely insufficient, not least because there was still an enormous, half-made headboard filling the whole table. I propped it against the wall and swept up bits of shed foam. There was a terrible, tragic moment when I realised that I had hideously maimed a passing spider during my vigorous sweeping activities, and had to kill it, quickly, whilst it was trying to crawl away on an insufficient number of legs. I was dreadfully upset about this, although not nearly as upset as the poor spider, obviously.
I was distracted at that moment, and now I am on the taxi rank, and it is almost eleven o’clock.
I have been wonderfully distracted this evening, as many of you will already know, by the discovery of an article on the mighty Internet which led me to click a link on Borders ITV to see a not-terribly-interesting news video which nevertheless featured our house.
It wasn’t about our house. It was about holiday homes in the Lake District, but the reporter had obviously been filming up and down our street and the one behind us, and noticed our house, which is rendered distinctive by its vivid pink front door and the pirate flag flying in the garden, so we were given a few seconds of prime television time.
It was not very much but it would have cost Coca Cola a fortune to get a placement like that.
Number Two Daughter watched it and said that she was embarrassed even all the way from Canada. This was not the first time she has had this experience.
I was very pleased, though, and watched it twice, even though I know perfectly well what our front garden looks like. I do not know why it might have been more interesting on the television, but it was.
Anyway, apart from that, it has not been a very eventful day. I managed to produce a passably edible lunch for Mark’s mother and her friend, and we drank tea instead of gin, which was sensible although not very rascally, and occupied a cheerful couple of hours catching up on family stories until they had to go, after which I washed everything up and made myself ready for work.
Which is where I am now.
I have attached the link to the news video, not that holiday houses in the Lake District being whinged about by a woman from Lancaster – do not be deceived into thinking she is local because I had never seen her before and when I looked her up it said she was from Lancaster – is exactly newsworthy, but just in case you are interested in looking at our house on the telly.
It is at about two and a half minutes into the video.
Look for the pink paint.
