All quiet on the South-Western front?

Susan asked if things were ok, as my blog seemed quiet.

Well, if you don't count my blog or the cats - such slackers! - quiet it certainly isn't. But what to tell you?

It's all mess, and boxes, and trips to the tip (modern name The Recycling Centre), and an ongoing and so far fruitless search for the other landline phones, packed at the last minute, and the shifting of furniture from one room to another, and the discovery that the knotty pine wardrobes wouldn't fit under the landing ceiling to be moved elsewhere and had to be dismantled in situ, and the dropping of one of the doors on my ankle, now a huge puffy fluid-filled pudding, and the getting rid recycling of at least six big bully fuschias to a friend's garden where they won't dominate the landscape and annoy the life out of me every time I see them, and frogs, and weeding, and cleaning windows, and the Lovely Son and girlfriend visiting, and constant meals, and tiredness beyond a joke.

And sometimes a trip out with Lizzie where I am struck wordless by the sheer beauty of it all.....

When I have time, and the place is less of a pigsty, I'll post pictures of my cottage - at least the bits that aren't piled high with half-emptied boxes and heaps of homeless items.