One day older


After a weekend of fun, spent in the company of dear friends, I feel at least one day older today.




It kicked off with the final of a quiz we’ve been involved in for the last year.  Still full of antibiotics and paracetamol, I’m sorry to say I was more of a passenger than a full team player, but thanks to my clever friends, we didn’t do too badly even if our answers of Willy and Wally in Round 4 fell short of the mark.




Though we didn’t bring home a cheque this year, we came in around fifth or so, which we felt was a respectable result, all things considered!




On Saturday, we took our friends over the border and spent a lovely day out in the fresh air.




We listened to tales of bravery which might have inspired us




but some still admitted they didn’t have the stomach for the shortest, rather unconventional trip, however impressive the engineering.

In the evening, we enjoyed one of Jamie’s 30 minute suppers, which I thought was a wizzard wheeze.  Took me just over thirty minutes to prepare but with such a great team of washer-uppers, not so very long to clear up.




Sunday was a day full of friends, flowers and sunshine.




I have some new and very interesting books to add to my library and I’m looking forward to spending a while with them. 




Then, there, underneath the furry armlets which I’m looking forward to wearing, is the clue to the gift from my Hero.  What a treasure!




Our sweet and very generous friends had shopped in the most elegant of places and the day was full of surprises.  We were so pleased they could join us in the afternoon to hear Tra play a small concert in Cheltenham and I was honoured to have her performance dedicated to me.




We rounded off the day with cocktails and supper around the restaurant’s  largest table. 

I’m a lucky girl!




I will need to remind myself of those four words frequently during the coming weeks, because today, we have cleared our garden room in the hope that the builders will begin their work on the roof.  Emptying our box room of every-box-that-ever-there-was and the polystyrene packaging it contained has been the work of my hero, who has worked wonders in finding homes for it all (three trips to the tip so far, together with a whole raft more things up in the loft now).  We are hoping that it won’t take too long and are consoling ourselves that we will gain some extra space in the form of a dressing room/walk in closet but nevertheless can’t summon up much enthusiasm for the thought of living with builders once again.

It’ll be lovely when it’s finished.


Work begins