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Tuesday, 26 June 2018

‘What to do...

next for badness?’  Is my constant cry.  I am waiting with bated breath for my scooter to arrive and then when I get up early I can on a beautiful day like today scoot off along the prom.
Sitting here with the door open it is fascinating to see the folk out and about at an early hour.  A really, like really thin woman has just power walked by twice.  Podge  sits here and idly wonders if that why she is so skinny?  Cyclists out for a gentle perambulation, dog walkers, men with cameras to catch the sunrise.  All peaceful and quiet, a magical time, better than any nature programme on the box.
The weekend normality is now a thing of the past as the beautiful doors fitted are now off in readiness for the tiler to weave his magic along with his web of words!
The huge panes of glass, then the grand finale... roll of drums might be appropriate here...
the parquet floor.
The kitchen will have to wait until funds allow.
At least I’m not a fitted, all singing all dancing sort of kitchen prima donna.  I save those tendencies for the more mundane aspects of my chaotic life.


Me in 
‘Up the revolution!’
mode. 
Will I ever grow old gracefully?
Not a chance!

2 comments:

  1. But what were you revolting against? (Or were you just going around in circles? Sorry, couldn't resist that!)
    Margaret P

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I was outside the Chilcot Inquiry when Blair was giving evidence.

      LX

      Delete

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