An Edinburgh Skyline

I worry lest my house, which is after all my home, begins to smell like some clinical building oozing the distinct odours which are that of zoflora and dettol instead of a slightly hippy sense of living wrapt in wafts of patchouli incense. For my supply of incense is wearing thin and the more I clean daily the white goods of the bathroom etc the more I have to set these sticks a-burning.
I'm also now going to have nightmares of flying locusts, it's truly dreadful the swarming that they are up to. I thank the Lord for the wee-ness of a midge that may plague one to distraction but are nothing comparit to these huge, hungry flying jets.
I've never personally been in the business of exertion. I live by the adage of my lovely old Aunty Annie 'A creaking door aye hangs lang' and I move at a refined, sedate pace is how I'd like to describe it. 
This morning I saw that my cousin Sheilas Face Book page had a clip of Victoria Wood in a 'Work-Out' sketch. Well I, for the first time ever, felt myself drawn into such a lively performance. It was rather like a Joyce Grenfell take off but with lycra leanings. 
I sort of wish that I could be as energetic in a flingy way like that. 
Too late, my overly ticking heart says.