... This is the first blip on the right day for over a month.
So although it's not much to write home about, well, I'm not 'writing home', I am writing from home (which is also something to write home about).

Well done to everyone involved in the Chester Marathon earlier today.
And well done to those runners who bettered their personal best and were AMAZING.

I am writing from home, as I have mentioned.

I have (in what little spare time available recently) made space for myself in a teeny weeny box room. I am as comfortable and delighted as a child underneath a sheet suspended between a dining chair and the back of the sofa. It's so SNUG in here :-).
I am surrounded by a notice board (there's nothing on it yet, I'm spoilt for choice and as ever, in those circumstances,  I remain a paralysed rabbit in headlights), I have pens (fibre tipped and different colours, I felt that in one's own space it would become (at some point) appropriate to highlight something. So now I possess the wherewithal).
I also have scissors as companions (£1 from a local High St stationary shop... What can you do Gladys? Leave them or bring them home?). And four different kinds of things with which to stick things to things. (I clearly missed out on a Post Office Set when I was a kid). Finally I have a few (ok four, I have four) boxes filled with birthday cards and wrapping paper. I have collected them over many years (they're not old ones, they are brand new and a bit like Miss Havisham, they're going somewhat yellow whilst awaiting the perfect partner). Our offspring shall, no doubt, put them all in a skip when we have turned old and yellow ourselves.
What can I say? I am a hoarder.

I'm a hoarder.
And I'm happy.

In my teeny weeny room :-)