Hands on

Back to reality with a bump - this is the dust on the bench in the WC, with CarbBoy's imprint... While the cat's away the mice may play, but while SooB is away Mr B may demolish half the house and leave the rubble piled on the stairs....

The train back to London was tolerable - with some sleeping, though the inevitable panic about flying kept me awake a bit. An early start to the morning, bidding a sleepy goodbye to the rest of the Penzance Six, had me in Heathrow w....a....y... too early. Having lost my lounge access card it was a dull wait until the flight was called. An exit row seat permitted some much needed stretching and almost a snooze, then the drive and the welcome site of the pompom trees and the red earth of home.

Mr B made me a cup of tea, which I managed a few gulps of before it was straight back to the reality of a trip to the builders merchant, hauling flooring up to the top floor (my physio would not be happy - I have been banned from heavy lifting...) and then, after a brief wander around the garden (which Mr B can be left in charge of again - the broad beans are huge) on with clearing the six inches of rubble from the stairs. Well, I say rubble, I really mean rubble, tiles, rotten wood, nails, two mummified rodents, several broken teacups and a solid lump of fur that I declined to investigate any further.

Foie gras for dinner. But tomorrow I must continue to clean...