Bedside

An 11pm view of what I can see. Specs, earplugs and the inevitable cardboard boxes.

Felt rubbish today. I think I am next in the relay of CarbBoy' holiday lergy. Happily I was up early enough to be a little more than monosyllabic when the concrete delivery man came to check my accessway (no Jack, that's not a euphemism). There was some wandering around town with my poorly hard drive trying to find someone to fix it (no luck - one repair shop is on holiday until the end of August, the other had a listen, told me it was 'foutu' and sent me away).

Then home to start work on making a couple of tops for TallGirl - with CarbBoy declining to help, declaring it more boring than sweeping the stairs (his chore - which he didn't do either). Later the masons arrived and, after a fruitful chat about how all was going, they got on with work. Inside the house, a discussion on To Kill a Mockingbird (which TallGirl had just finished) some French genealogical research on the fascinating English lady who lived in this house from the 1920s until the 1970s, and a programme on penguins. It's all go.