Rope Enough*

“Right, I’m out of the door and on my way,” the message comes through from Seb at 4.04pm.  “Can’t imagine it will take me more than two and a half hours.  So: 6.30pm I reckon.  I’m training it.  Don’t feel like driving.  See you soon xxx.”

“See you soon darling,” I reply.  “Please ring doorbell/ flat phone when you get here as going to turn mobile off for a bit so can sleep.  Will turn it back on at 6ish xxx.”

“Will do xxx.”  He says.

Have just woken up at six o’clock.  Slept better than usual as my lovely Aunty has just given me a summer duvet.  It’s 4.5 tog and this has made a huge difference: am not nearly so hot under it.  

Seb ought to be here within the next thirty minutes and need to:

1.  Do washing up in kitchen sink.

2.  Move bath mats from the main bathroom back into my bathroom.

3.  Move airer full of wet stuff into brother’s room.

4.  Refill bird feeders and birds’ water.

5.  Clean lenses.

6.  Do Something about fingernails.  They look awful.

7.  Tidy bedroom.

8.  Move thirty or so fluffy animals from bed to shelves.  Allergy doctor says am not allowed to have them sleeping in bed with me as they contain House Dust and House Dust Mites and am allergic to those.

9.  Write and post this blog.

10.  Send email thanking my Aunty for the wonderful summer duvet.

11.  Find the Wimbledon-Draw-WallChart in depths of The Sunday Times, which have purchased for this purpose.

12.  Throw out all thirty seven sections of The Sunday Times: all except Wimbledon section.  If there even is one.  And The Culture.  So can know what could be watching on television all week, when am in fact watching Wimbledon.  

13.  Maybe delete some things from the digibox as it is almost full.  So, as brother says: “we can record some things and then never watch them”.

“Just at the station.  Do you need anything picked up?” The message comes through from Seb at 6.15pm.

“Maybe a bag of spinach or something.  Have pasta things to make.  Thank you,” I reply.

Argh.  He means the-station-that-is-forty-minutes-away but that was ten minutes ago.  So there’s no time for me to do anything on the list.  Am still lying in bed writing this.  Ah well.  Never mind.  Am going to see my love and cuddle him.  Yay!

Attached photo is of a chair who has appeared at the traffic lights, so one can now sit down whilst waiting to cross the main road.  Which seems civilised.

Happy Sunday everyone!
*2014.  By Oliver Tidy.  Detective novel.  Book 1 in the Romney and Marsh Files.

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