I wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m complaining. I really wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m complaining. But it’s a fact that when there’s nothing to moan about with the weather, and very little happening in my life, finding something to write about the day as a record of its passing gets increasingly difficult.
We are experiencing a long run of lovely spring days. Can’t remember when last it rained, not even today. And this has been a Welsh Sunday, for heaven’s sake. Welsh Sundays are supposed to be wet.
Hey ho. My bones have been telling me all along that we’ll have a spell of really bad weather when this mild period finishes. We shall have to see.
Indoor chores done, we shifted our field of operations to the garden. Or perhaps I should say that Graham shifted operations. I did little more than sit in the sun, make tea, and issue helpful comments as required.
And now, vegetables all prepared ready for dinner, we are about to embark on a two-episode Buffy fest. You know. The ones where the Mayor ascends, or doesn’t, principal Skinner gets his come-uppance, many students are wasted, and the end-of-series loose ends tidied up. Again. I do like to see loose ends tidied away neatly.
