Five a day

And this is just round the corner from the street market, where you could choose nearer 50 a day if you wanted.
 
A very domesticated day. I like to think that it’s the heat that makes me so slow (Miracle Maria could have done everything in half the time), but the truth is, I’m just slow. Age, of course, has nothing to do with it. Still, we went to the gym, I ‘did’ the market, have produced the statutory two meals, stripped the bed and done two loads of washing, and finally put the Christmas decorations in boxes and sorted the bits of the tree by size. Next step is to get it all up three flights of stairs to the attic and packed into the trunks, ready for next year.
 
Best of all, though, the airco in the guest room is fixed. There was nothing wrong with the machine itself, just with the brain of the so-called electrician (who wasn’t even supposed to touch it). It didn’t occur to him that it might be 220v, rather than 110, so it was wired up wrong and only working on one phase. It took the airco specialist who came yesterday to discover that. Our 'electrician' came today and fixed it in a jiffy – our guests’ discomfort (and our discomfiture) could so easily have been avoided.  It doesn’t bear thinking of.