Having just read Susan's post with accompanying glorious photos, I am inspired to go outside with my camera and take a picture of whatever is there in front of me when I've walked 132 steps. Anyone care to join in?
Post your photo any time this week. Maybe Jane could teach me how to do that clever linky thing, (or maybe she would do it instead because I am BUSY BUSY BUSY having fun with visitors and the like). But go on, do it; could be fun!
Meantime, here are some neglected and going-over flowers that I bought for £2 at Dunster Castle a week ago - before I cull them, I thought I should share the madness of them with you.
I haven't blogged for ages, and I miss it. But I've been so busy!
Shelagh is here. Tricia has gone. Both really love the house and the area; it is such fun showing my lovely visitors round my new county, and learning a great deal about it for myself, but my, it's hectic too! While there was the three of us together, we crammed a lot into the few days before Tricia went off to visit other friends and family; steam train, Exmoor off-road excursion, shopping, sightseeing, eating, and laughing a great deal.
We were driven around some wild and barely-accessible areas of Exmoor by a chap with a very loud voice, whose favourite word was "effectively". He sprinkled each sentence liberally with this word, and after three hours, having lost count of how many times "effectively" was bellowed, we tottered home, our deafened ears bleeding, barely able to assimilate the lovely sights we had seen for the force of the commentary that accompanied them.
A fifth cat has upset the fragile equilibrium of the menagerie, and pet behaviour/bodily functions seem to feature quite frequently. You don't need the details. It's settling down, sort of, and no one has been bitten or scratched, but they all have their moments. Shelagh described it as (effectively) a madhouse this morning, and she was right.
Catkin spends much of her time upstairs, although her hearty appetite would suggest that (effectively) she isn't too upset by this. She has a Lady Bracknell look about her, mostly of disapproval, and the boys, always easily alarmed, can be cowed by a glance.
Millie's fascination for frogs is lessening, but we're not free of it yet. Sitting at my desk this morning, I could hear a rustling sound beside me, and squinting downwards, I spotted this little chap trying to hide behind a pile of papers. He was very happy to be rescued from a carpeted sitting room and returned to the pond.
The builders are here, my roof is now winter-ready, the electrics have been sorted out, and the stone wall in the sitting room, with its oh-so-wrong pointing has been rendered in the traditional style, and looks infinitely better as a result. It will be painted when dry, and I can get some of my pictures up, when it may start to feel more like home (effectively), and less like a WIP.
Next week, the madhouse will consist only of me, the cats and the dogs. And perhaps a frog.