It’s October and 25 degrees on the thermometer. Weird weather indeed. Just last week we were back in jumpers and jeans and now we are digging the T-shirts out again. Such a shame we covered the pool up really. Still, with the promise of blue skies and sunshine for most of next week, Denis and I will be able to paint the vast deck with extortionately expensive protective resin before the frost kicks in. And now that Lionel has a list too (I gave Denis his last week), hopefully between us three, we can get cracking on all the external bits and pieces without breaking an ankle in the recent walnut deluge.
Too many late nights and far too much wine but I have finally finished it. The first draft that is, I am under no illusion that The Book will need many changes before it’s anywhere near a publisher’s desk. Next step, back off to Sally for editing and I need to start sorting out which photos should be incorporated and more importantly, a title. Yup, my opus is title less so if anyone has an idea? I don’t want to call it after the blog as the word ‘widow’ could be off-putting and it isn’t a story about dogs so no ‘woofers’. Thoughts on a postcard, please. Frankly, I’m looking forward to a few weeks without my computer and getting back into all things garden and seeing friends again. I have been a bit of a hermit of late.
I managed to squeeze in a hair colour appointment last week, my chlorine – yellow tint wasn’t really doing it for me. There is nothing quite like a pamper and highlights to lift the spirits. Considering I’m about to go the wrong side of 50 at the end of this month, I need all the boosting I can get. My body might be half-decent shape thanks to running and all things outdoors and having no boobs to ‘droop’ can be an advantage but there’s no escaping the changing contours of one’s visage. Since there is no way on Earth I would voluntarily have needles stuck in my face, I’m going to have to be a little more regular in my trips to the coiffure instead.
I can’t believe I’m even saying it out loud but I have to start thinking about our annual Christmas card. Which in turn means pulling my newly coloured hair out trying to get the woofers to pose for a photo whilst sitting together, facing forwards and preferably not licking their private parts. My younger brother, Moth, sent me a newspaper article the other day – a study about how dogs’ could detect stress levels in humans. They obviously haven’t done enough research. Or ever tried to get 9 woofers to sit still long enough for you to press the button three hundred times in the vain hope that you’ll capture the joy and bliss of living with a bunch of semi-trained canine compatriots. Actually my hibiscus is looking rather nice at the moment…….
Widow plus woofs 