All still here!

Despite our fears for our two rubbish bins - which had to be out in the street for the early morning collection of both recyclables and other trash - there were no casualties overnight. I think we'd all had the same thought, for there were six bins lined up in the lee of the wall, jammed together like penguins in a blizzard (Yes, I know - a fanciful image, but I like it). And our wired-up bird table was fine, though the no-mess seed feeder was almost empty again. Friends had, I believe, an interestingly long reverse to do down a single-track road blocked by a tree, but that's all I've heard of here. 

Monday means Pilates, and it was back to the studio to be put through an escalating series of hoops, so to speak, with the result that when I got home I fell asleep over my coffee. (Himself was out at his class by that time; we both dozed off over lunch like the old people we are rather than the lithe young things we like to imagine)

Other than that there was  a dreary walk round the West Bay and home by the Health Store to pick up chickpeas and goat butter and brazil nuts. By then we were both flagging, but I burned some oud to dispel the lingering suggestion of sourdough starter flatbreads that I'd fried up for lunch and then managed to do some Italian before cooking calf's liver Venetian style for dinner.  Later, we tried watching the first episode of The Responder and ended up more depressed than anything else. Should I persist? I found myself looking at the news for entertainment. We didn't get seeing the full Ian Blackford incident, but I caught it online - I think he was magnificent. But I'm now trying to get to bed before midnight so that I can get going a bit earlier in the morning.

Blipping my end of the Pilates studio as we prepare to be stretched. I try not to see myself in the wall mirrors one we get going, but the eagle-eyed might catch a glimpse of my new garish leggings...