It seems as though March has got its message mixed. Sure, it’s going out like a lamb, but one that’s just out of the freezer. Not nice. Not nice at all.
We’ve been busy, though. Yesterday the new oven arrived and Graham had it installed and the housing unit re-built in time for a late dinner. It’s a delightful oven, simple, cheap, and fit for purpose. And it did a lovely job of oven-backed fried chicken pieces, tomatoes and baked potato. Today it heated onion bagels to perfection.
Now he’s laying cork on the landing, and it’s looking good. We are leaning towards having cork floors in the bedrooms and studies, too, but we have time to decide that.
He’s been invited to go work at the holiday camp for the Easter weekend and the following week. And, like as not, for the two transvestite weeks later in the year. He promises me that he’ll not weaken and do the whole season, so I’m happy with it. I don’t think Dolly and I will have a problem with the occasional week, but anything longer and we’ll be deeply unhappy with the situation.
Dolly’s been a little poorly after a funny turn Sunday night. And then, just as she makes a splendid recovery, darn me if I don’t go and have a funny turn of a different kind this evening. I’m making a good recovery, too, but I’m persuaded that my temporary smoking relapse must end in the next few days. Dolly and I are feeling the unfairness of life just now. Old age is a real beast, for cats and humans.
