“ I’m not mad at you I’m mad at the dirt”

“Are you having a sale? “ Mrs Trellis asked over the garden wall, her watery blue eyes were twinkling

She pointed to the small yellow arm chair and the living room rug  which sat sunbathing on the lawn.

She was the third person to make such a joke this morning

Indeed, one Walker asked if I was selling the chair which she said was “ Ever so cute”

I’ve placed cushions and throws all about the garden on bushes and walls.

There is nothing better for a doggy household to deodorise things than to place them in full sun

I’m spring cleaning today. No theatre, no friends, no cinema , just carpet cleaning, proper hot water washes on the paintwork and five loads in the washing machine.

I find cleaning very therapeutic , which is all well and good when you share an 17th Century cottage with 2 dogs, a cat and a log burner. Of course having a new dyson hoover and carpet cleaner help, and I’m such a sad bastard that I always “ look” at the amount of vacuumed detritus whenever I’ve given the living room a good going over.

There is something very satisfying in inspecting the fluff amount! 

Am I the only one that does this? 

Again, I realise I am a sad bastard 

Doors and windows are open wide letting bird song, and the scent of honeysuckle into the cottage as well as Mrs Trellis’ old lady's “ You hoo!!! “ 

It’s warm and sunny

And it’s a joy to be home