Tennis court - the closest I'll get to Wimbledon

This is the mark a pallet leaves on grass after 11 days, which is how long our small garden has been a woodworkshop and storage place for new window frames. Contrary to all stereotypes about double-glazing people, they've been a pleasure to have around and have done a great job. Today they left and we've started reclaiming our living space, working out which bits of furniture need to go back where and wondering what to do about our ancient faded curtains.

I freegled what we were throwing out and was thrilled that some of our draughty, broken, 100-year-old windows will end up in a tree house. Others have gone to an artist making a wall of windows for her studio and the sash weights now belong to a neighbour who wants to make his own windows. We've stashed all the old unpainted wood to keep us warm next winter so have generated a lot less rubbish than we might have done.

Most years I quite enjoy watching bits of Wimbledon but this year, if I haven't been making decisions about holes in walls I've been preparing for the intensive one-month Teaching English as a Foreign Language course I'm starting on Monday. I'd given up on the people for whom I taught a demonstration lesson three weeks ago but - fantastic news - they've just offered me three weeks' work immediately after the course ends so I'll recoup almost exactly what it's costing me. I'll be shattered by the end of it all but it'll be a great opportunity to build on what I learn.

So this image is also intended to lower your expectations. If I have time to blip at all over the next seven weeks it's unlikely to be much better than this. I won't be commenting and I may turn my comments off too. Certainly don't feel you have to talk into the void.