You didn’t mention being at home before, but I am delighted that you are now, Twellsy.
What is the plan? I mean from the Orsepiddle. I know what yours will be.
Carinthia. xx
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I’m sure we all are, Twellsy. Rest easy, enjoy the new hammock and freely offered gin.
Soo xx
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Thank you all
The sen is shining and I intend to sprawl on my hammock with magazines
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Frigging cold here.9° feeling like 5°, apparently.
I have been out fer Supplies wearing sunscreen, cos I have to, & me Big Coat, cos I needed to.
Carinthia. xx
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Umm
I was running in my new hammock by sinbathing on it…
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I’m sure that you were, Twellsy
The day has improved here, but deffo no sinbathing.
Carinthia. xx
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I have just paid our quarterly bill to Anglian Water, by credit card, online. MBNA asked me if I was sure it wasn’t a scam, which caused me to shout out loud: Yes! it is a bloody scam.
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Morning
We have rain
Anybody want some?
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Wall-to-wall sunshine, here, Twellsy. If I could share, I would.
Soo xx
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Morning.
9° feeling like 5° here, but no rain.
I will have to choose my coat carefully when I go out today. I am planning to go & have my Spring Booster.
I have tried twice & failed to get an appointment at the Surgery for this, but discovered, en passant, that my Pharmacy are doing them, so I will go there.
I may reward myself with an visit to The Chesterfield Arms afterwards.
How are you doing, Twellsy?
Are the bruises receeding?
Carinthia. xx
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That made my morning, Hedgers - thank you! Perhaps the Cellar would like a couple of pics from walkies:
Until we relocated to East Lothian, I had no idea how gorgeously arboreal it is.
Soo xx
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Even a man who is pure in heart
And says his prayers by night
May become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms
And the autumn moon is bright.
so we’re naffed then.
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But that night is not tonight, it not being autumn. And the Flower Moon isn’t even until tomorrow night.
Meanwhile, Veet is reasonably effective.
Naffeddom postponed.
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Just as I was admiring a darkling bat, there was a softish tap to the back of my head. I smiled indulgently and quoted myself a bit of Nash:
It zigzags through the evening air
And never lands on ladies’ hair,
A fact of which men spend their lives
Attempting to convince their wives.
And then I thort, hang on a minute, that was too small an impact even for a Pipistrelle and felt the back of my head. Some class of enormous beetle whirred at me and was most reluctant to relinquish its perch so there was a small dance of me screeching in the dusk attempting to dislodge the fecker.
Yes, thank you. All the pitchers, plus the Medicinal Absinthe.
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{{{Shudder}}} Whirred, you say? Take all ovvit, Gus.
Soo xx
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[mildly traumatised gluggity] Thank you, dear Bee.
Gxx
It definitely whirred. I knows whirring when I feel it.
Definitely not a stag beetle [thousand-yard stare initiated, not so much because big beetle, but because the then cat had swarmed up the rose arch to tell it to keep the bluddy noise down, this is a respectable garden, plus your wings are really annoying and possibly tasty, and Muggins had to detach said cat from the thorns in belly-fur and belly from which it was suspended.]
Probably a cockchafer.
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