I have promised myself an egg on toast breakfast when I finish here. Not in payment for the work I may or may not do, but for doing anything at all other than snuggling under the covers with a Dolly-cat and waiting for the sun to come back.
It’s a grey, rainy, miserable morning here in Wet West Wales:
Rain, rain, go away
Sometimes, when I look at the pictures from other people in far away places, I could very easily become envious of their sunshine. Hey ho. Just as well I don’t do envy.
Mind you, if you’re wondering why I don’t do too many photos, just look out of that window.
So, what’s to do?
Laundry, that’s what to do. When I finish here and when I’ve done my egg on toast, I shall take my handy picker-upper stick and go up to pull clothes out of the laundry basket, piling them into two heaps on the floor. Then, with much grunting and groaning, I shall bundle up the piles of coloureds, lug it down, and stuff it in our trusty Miele, add powder and fabric conditioner, and set it to mumble away, washing and drying in that quiet, unassuming way that Miele machines have. The second pile will follow, and all will be folded and stored away by tea time, allowing for lunch and a short nap.
Wonderful things, German engineered washer dryers. Not fast. Not flashy. Just quietly reliable.
While the laundry is being done I shall sit with my book by the window and wish this temporary interruption to summer over and done with. I’m in need of sunshine on my skin again, and vitamin supplements are not an adequate subsitute.
