Symmetry

 
It felt strange to meet my Merry Widow friend in a deserted Söderberg this morning. Generally there is a rush for seats on a Sunday morning, but for whatever reason we had the place to ourselves. We felt we were on the slippery slope to perdition  when we shared a blueberry bun. The next step on our downfall will be a whole bun each. Perish the thought.

Porty daughter made her escape from the Dower House this morning to return to her own flat and evict my granddaughter and her husband. The latter  are spending tonight in an airport hotel for an early flight tomorrow. 
With unaccustomed zest I changed the bed linen  and did 3 washings in readiness for my next guest in a fortnight. Who said the Sabbath was the day of rest?

My blip has possibly been done by me before, but these two houses never fail to appeal to me. They are so attractive but unfortunately at the moment they are opposite a building site with much earth moving and demolition work going on, not to mention the noise of an enormous drill and the constant coming and going of huge lorries. It must try the occupants patience to the maximum.

The sun has appeared and it’s another late afternoon  sitting on the patio. 


I seem to have been bequeathed half a bottle of red wine which hasn’t made it back to Portobello. That will go very nicely with a bowl of chilli pasta also left behind while I watch the Lionesses in their game against Germany. What a lovely example they are to young women, playing football in a much better and more entertaining way than their male overpaid counterparts.