Wash Day

 It’s nearly 2.30 pm 

Time for writing and then a siesta 

I’ve been on the go since 8 am

Today’s blog is a chatty one, 

Nothing heavy, emotional or arch,

Just observations of a day of jobs.

First chore was dog showering.

This is the most onerous 

For it entails a certain amount of bulldog wrestling.

Now no matter how nonchalant I act Dorothy always knows what’s coming and for a solid and heavy bitch she can hide herself in the most surprising of places. This morning she managed to get into the lowest shelf of the bedroom bookshelf and I was sure she was holding her breath as I scanned the room for her. 

Dorothy hates showers.

Now that’s not entirely true as she hates getting wet and being washed but when I have to get the Fanny cloth out to give her tuppence the once over, she gently warms to the theme of the experience and embraces it totally. 

It’s just the thought of the shower she detests.

Now the Welsh love a hot shower. They would have one everyday if I left the shower door open. Their only negative is afterwards both will career around the cottage like loons, wetting bedclothes and furnishings in their wakes.

Today I didn’t mind as all the washing was done. Bedspreads, duvet cases, pillowcases and towels. All washed and hung on bushes, walls and the field gate to dry.

The ancient floorboards in my bedroom were swept and washed and left to dry, and I washed the carpet in the living room free of wet paw prints and doggy smells.

Underwear hung on the garden chairs

I cook linguine for lunch with a tiny bit of olive oil and Parmesan and drank tea as the mokka pot is soaking in the sink.

Then I water the patio planters by hand ( there are 47) and then the front garden basket and pots and lay the spare bed duvet on the front lawn to dry.

The cottage smells of detergent and honeysuckle 

The honeysuckle flowers have bloomed overnight around the front door 

And smell glorious .

Time for a kip in the armchair.