August Bank Holiday Monday
Elizabeth Bott type bored.
Our timber-framed 300 year old cottage has seen some things over the years and often when I'm bored in a nice way, I try and imagine all the fun, laughter,
tears, pain, births, parties, grief, wakes
death and dare I say it...bonking
that the fabric of this ancient cottage has experienced.
August has been a busy entertaining month for us.
I just adore having folk to stay.
Saturday saw the last visitors until half-term.
Yesterday I reclaimed my studio.
Today I started sewing again on my family history wall-hanging.
I was keen to see how the old sorely hand coped with a little light stitching.
It held up better than I thought it would, although it is throbbing now.
Work still in progress
I just wish I could sink in the West;
talk to my soft toys,
trump at will,
dunk biscuits in my bone china mug,
take my teeth out to tackle toffees,
say and do outrageous things,
talk in a stage whisper,
about how awful the people are sat at the next table.
Not give a fig about whether Blair took us in to an illegal war,
care not whether he gets a knighthood.
Vote for Miss Whiplash as a backlash to how I feel about
the majority of our politicians.
Stop shaving my legs and bits; at least, in these tough economic
times I now don't have facials, waxing, pedicures and the like.
Well someone's got to show some restraint.
Pop socks are the way forward.