"Don't you ever get bored?"
The Prof asks me this quite regularly
He asks me because he gets bored very easily.
I don't.
I washed the cottage windows clean of the snow dirt this morning. It was bright and cold and damp and the bachelors were on tip toe, creeping across the wet pasture to the old hen house against the church wall. On cold dank days they sit on the top of it with their faces turned towards the weak sun.
Sun bathing animals are rather moving to watch I've always thought.
I moved the Church Christmas Tree from the boiler house to the vestry for Gaynor the mad organist to erect and cleared some shelves in old Trevor's garage. He's in full pottering mode.
William has stationed himself by the letterbox as the sunshine has brought out the Christmas card deliverers. He delights in trying to nip the fingers of an over zealous postie.
I've cleared away the garden rubbish, walked the dogs, and have delivered Christmas cards myself . The ones I put aside for the villagers who live down the lane to the south of Trelawnyd .
The lane never seems to catch the sun and Mary and I were chilled when we returned.
The light outside is already fading as I open my new " baking cupboard" I'm making mince pies which will have to be hidden around the house out of prying Prof's eyes.
I'm listening to Anne Marie Minhall's programme on Classic Fm and as the Prof is working late tonight and The Walking Dead doesn't restart until February, I shall content myself with watching the first episode of the Bette Davis / Joan Crawford tv drama Feud.
Bored? Nawwww
The Prof asks me this quite regularly
He asks me because he gets bored very easily.
I don't.
I washed the cottage windows clean of the snow dirt this morning. It was bright and cold and damp and the bachelors were on tip toe, creeping across the wet pasture to the old hen house against the church wall. On cold dank days they sit on the top of it with their faces turned towards the weak sun.
Sun bathing animals are rather moving to watch I've always thought.
I moved the Church Christmas Tree from the boiler house to the vestry for Gaynor the mad organist to erect and cleared some shelves in old Trevor's garage. He's in full pottering mode.
William has stationed himself by the letterbox as the sunshine has brought out the Christmas card deliverers. He delights in trying to nip the fingers of an over zealous postie.
I've cleared away the garden rubbish, walked the dogs, and have delivered Christmas cards myself . The ones I put aside for the villagers who live down the lane to the south of Trelawnyd .
The lane never seems to catch the sun and Mary and I were chilled when we returned.
The light outside is already fading as I open my new " baking cupboard" I'm making mince pies which will have to be hidden around the house out of prying Prof's eyes.
Bored? Nawwww