Day off (all day)
It is an odd fact that all morning I had a sense of unease if not panic that rather than dossing around at home I should have my work laptop out and be bashing away at the keyboard. But Ian, you're on your holibobs I tell myself. And indeed I am.
I listen to the radio all morning, edit some photos, make some bread, have lunch, read a magazine. Until sometime about two I do get round to some work. Also, not quite true, as I did go on a sloe hunt in the morning, at the top of the field that runs along the bottom of our garden. Expecting a bumper crop, I found only a thin harvest, and more than half were under-sized and not all juicy. I pick them anyway, hoping that I have enough for a litre of gin, but we shall see when we get around to buying the gin.
At two I go out to the front garden and begin sorting through the stones and gravel, saving the blue granite we laid some five years ago, as part one of the the next stage of the project; the gardens. Just over two hours of bending down sorting through stones was enough to knacker my back. What has become of me? I am soft, or going soft as I get old. But I have done half the garden, and the rest will be done on Sunday. It already looks better if truth be known.
In fact what with house getting near done and the garden coming along, Chez Jelltex is looking mighty fine, and at the beginning of October it should all be done.
We settled down in the evening to watch a documentary about Stonehenge, all filled with fancy dan graphics, but it was good enough. And it seemed the excitement of that wore us out, so we went to bed at nne fifteen. We'll be drinking horlicks next....
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