Heathers…

…All lined up neatly ready for the potting.

(A self-imposed task for Himself who performs all jobs with similar neatness and precision).

I’m late blipping because the water has gone off. (Not in a mouldy way, but rather in a disappearing act sense). Me standing by the tap, googling ‘water’ and ‘very empty tap’ is not helping the situation in any productive way, so I might as well be blipping.

I can report that the wine forecast was accurate. And there should be enough left to keep us going until, ooo, probably tomorrow lunch time?

No water eh?
How easy it is for normality to fall around our ankles, as if it has no elastic at all.