Visitors gone, weather glorious, time on my hands to relax, and in the evenings to read blogs and perhaps, at last, find time to leave comments.
But it hasn't worked out like that. Weeks of lovely visitors who actively discouraged housework (bless you, Shelagh!) came with consequences. The house needed attention, with me in rubber gloves and a pinny.
The kitchen and bathroom have been cleaned within an inch of their lives, The Wall has been painted, the hoover has been employed with vim and vigour, furniture has been shifted around and back again, then moved somewhere else, the numerous cakes and treats that had slid immediately onto my hips have been attacked with long walks up and down hilly bridleways, and the days have just flown by, with very little of that planned relaxation. Lottie kept me on task.
But my house looks much, much better now. I have yet to tackle the pictures. No longer a matter of banging a picture hook into a wall, changing my mind whenever I liked and re-hanging; oh no - these walls require a drill, a masonry bit, rawlplugs and screws, a tolerance for dust and nerve-shattering noise, as well as a certain confidence that where I place a picture or a mirror is somewhere that it can stay for a long time. Where's that Lovely Son when I need him? In Berlin, that's where, celebrating his 40th birthday with the lovely girlfriend.
He is under orders to eat at least one doughnut on my behalf. The best doughnuts ever, Berliners.... a fond childhood memory.
The boys have come out of hiding. You have to visit for at least a fortnight before they emerge, and even then they will regard you as highly dangerous.
They appear with brazen stares at mealtimes.
Next wave of visitors scheduled for the 12th....
I will leave comments one day, and that's a promise.