Resting

I always think there's something a bit vulnerable looking about a lying down horse. On their feet they can be quite fearsome - or at least should always be treated with a lot of respect - but lying down they are a different kind of beast.

After yesterday's excess of paint stripper, both Mr B and I were not feeling our best - a night of weird dreams and a headachey morning. But he bravely pressed on and finished the job (stripping the WC wall of horrible layers of paint which at previous scraping progress would have taken three weeks of solid work to do). I dashed all over town all day with the kids at their various clubs, then home to make onion quiches for tomorrow's lunch (which were all scoffed by Mr B before dinner) and a vaguely healthy duck dinner (cooked in the oven not a frying pan and with rice not chips).

In other news, I may finally have convinced Mr B of my theory that building houses cures all recession ills. Or at least enough of them that it's worth thinking about.

Yesterday is backblipped, due to excessive paint stripper yesterday rendering me barely able to speak, let alone type.