Gleaming ...

I really think I need to hibernate for a day or so - if I could only identify a possible date! Today began with uncertainty: was the gas man coming or not? (Because if so, he'd be there by 8.30am). He wasn't. By now we're reduced to encouraging our gas fire to ignite by warming it with a small radiant fire first. Mad, huh? I scampered along the lane with a minute to spare to meet my lift to Pilates  after hanging out some towels to dry. 

I realised the moment I did the first stretch that the two-week break in my Pilates/physio routine had done me no good at all. I reckon at this age I have to keep things going, though I have to say I felt the better of the class afterwards. We had an early lunch to let me out to the dentist for a 2pm appointment; I left just as the BT engineer arrived to see if our phones had merely died or what. I was having my teeth cleaned by the hygienist; with my dentist's encouragement I went for the deluxe version which (a) costs money and (b) is a bit like having your teeth sand-blasted. The hygienist agreed that this was the future of teeth-cleaning; my teeth are gleaming (really) instead of resembling those of the Queen Mother in her later years, though tonight my gums feel a tad tender.

When I got home, on foot, the BT chap was still there, a big lad crouched in a very small space sorting wires and splitters and stuff. He turned out to be a former pupil who remembered us both, and thanked us very sweetly for giving him a walk down memory lane. It's rather lovely when that happens; I feel if I were to fall down dead in the street there'd be someone who'd know who I was ...

By the time all that was over, we were both exhausted - again - and fit only to eat and collapse. I was glad I had some left-over roast lamb to eat; I supplemented it with roasted potatoes with onions and rosemary, and popped a tray of baby chantenay carrots decked with cumin and nigella seeds in the olive oil in beside them. I managed to stay alert long enough to watch the penultimate episode of His Dark Materials and the major, and completely awful, news items.

My sister texted me to tell me they're stuck on Madeira because of desert sand and fog. While in theory that might seem quite a good thing to happen, I'm very glad it didn't happen to us. By the time I'm packed and ready to go I only want to be home. Apparently the sand is headed for us ...

Blipping a familiar morning view with a wonderfully apocalyptic shaft of light on the sea.