Well, it's been a rocky week. I miss my cat, my Tybalt. He is buried under the apple tree in the back garden, but every time I go into my arty-crafty writing room I think, 'Where's Tybs?' because I am so used to seeing him sitting on my chair and now, on my chair, there is a catless void. I also expect him to come running when I get tins out of the cupboard. I found one of his big fat whiskers when I was hoovering the other day, so I've popped it in my pencil box as a memento.
The new boiler is in. It has a fancy pants wireless thermostat doo-dah. I can't get over how both quiet and small the boiler is and how it is very efficient with its delivery of a steady temperature of just right hot water, and with keeping the house an even temperature. Of course, now I am thinking it is one of those things that we should have had done a couple of years ago when Boiler Mark 1 was starting to sound noisily iffy. And so running with the idea of 'Do stuff NOW!' I dashed out on Saturday morning whilst Andy was at work and, on a bit of a whim it has to be said, bought a new carpet for the living room. Blue it is. Being fitted on Monday. Given the rest of the room is pinkish this may facilitate the need for new curtains and throws, and a bit of wall painting, but then it might be okay. Won't know until Monday. Bracing myself for Surprise - Good or Bad? Who knows?
The house opposite us caught fire on Sunday evening. When I say 'caught fire' I really mean 'arson' but I don't like to think that we live in an area where arson is de rigeur. There were 3 fire engines, an ambulance and a police car. It was exciting to watch, well, better than what was on telly anyway. But still - arson? Sheesh.
Have started a bit of Christmas shopping. Have been asked to supply my own Christmas list but so far have managed to add only one item. Not many surprises happening in MY stocking this year then, if I don't buck up my ideas. Part of the problem is having a birthday only 7 weeks before Christmas. I got a tailor's dummy! She is standing in my arty-crafty writing room waiting her first modelling job. I have twiddled the adjusto-knobs to my size. It is rather worrying to observe that although we are the same height, her bosoms sit noticeably higher than mine. But then I suppose she hasn't been fighting gravity for 50 years. And I shall have to call her something other than 'she.' What do you call a burgundy woman with a peg leg and no head? Actually, Peggy would be quite a good name, n'est ce pas? Except I knew someone called Peggy years ago when my Christopher was a baby and she used to squeeze his cheeks with, I thought, unnecessary force. So p'raps not.
What else? Oh yes, I have created my Emergency Stock Cupboard, which, as a result of the gentle mocking I have endured, shall be solely in my possession come the Apocalyse /Harsh Winter of '15/ Exit of Britain From the EU. I'll be alright, Jack. Me and my beans and toilet roll and enormous box of assorted mint chocolates I got for my birthday.
On Saturday, Heather is taking me to London to see the Dawn French stand up show as a birthday treat. She (Heather, not Dawn French) has promised that the theatre is very close to Charing Cross station, that she will not drag me across roads of moving traffic, that no Underground travel is involved and that we shall be home again in time for Strictly. I am glad of this as my latent agoraphobia has been rearing its ugly little head recently. Any travel to London has to be as calm and stress-free as possible or hysterics might ensue. I would hate for my daughter to have to suffer the embarrassment of having to slap me in a public place in order to bring me to my senses.
And now, having just drunk half a pint of tea just before bedtime (clever, huh?) it is time to retire and crack on with one of the many books I received for my birthday.
I'm sorry I've not been blogging much this past week or three, and thank you, dear Rusty Duck chum, for checking up on me. See what happens for your trouble, Jess? You kick start a load of bloggy drivel!
That'll learn ya!