Blogging from Bridport - Day 41

Day 41.

The cast:
Me
'The undertaker' (husband)

I wake up and wonder why its still dark. Where has the sunshine gone, where indeed? Gone South that's where, right down to 'On the ground in France'. I don't begrudge it, really...

'The undertaker is a joker, that's for sure. Starts off the morning by complaining that the soap in the bathroom dish is transparent, ie; thin. 'It still froths up ok' I say. Very nice little bar it is/was too purloined from our last holiday at a Landmark Trust Property. Well to cut a long story short I binned the offending wafer thin bar and replaced it with a queerly packaged lump covered in dust. On closer inspection it was a handmade bar from Cornwall claiming to contain lavender with mud extracts. I hope he's happy now,that's all I can say, seems a bit rum to me washing in mud. Nowt so queer as folk.

Because of all this wet stuff pouring out of the sky I need to be extra vigilant in my snail patrol and I fully intend to up the anti to twice a day. I've nothing against snails, indeed I hold them rather dear to my heart but I have just invested in some lupins and wallflowers and I refuse to be intimidated in my desire to create a peaceful haven for us both. It's the least I can do, seeing as the desire for shopping and Pre loved clothes (my business) is at an all time low. I admit I did sneak a look at some of my stock today and I daresay the love will return, (on both sides) but for now I am keeping focused on focusing.

A dreaded supermarket shop was on the cards today so I timed it so that I bumped into 'Office darling' in the car park. It was pouring with rain, neither of us were feeling particularly chirpy. We sat in our separate cars and chatted with the windows down. I even had a flask of tea, oh an illicit outing to be sure! Once inside I purchased the first of the English asparagus and luxury of luxuries English strawberries. I know a thing or two about English strawberries having grown them for a living, (a previous life) and they are the very best! Malling Centenary from Somerset, so locally grown too.

Come hell or high water and despite the pouring rain I was determined to stride out over the fields. Pulling out the hateful kermit green anorak and walking boots I set forth with another flask of tea. (An English obsession) The heads of the delicate Queen Anne lace hung forlornly enveloped by a thin mist rolling over the hills. Sheep stood and munched unconcernedly as I passed by. 'Hello Mrs Sheep' I call out. Did you know this is supposed to be lucky? I observe that the oak tree has been left standing.

'You look muddy' 'The undertaker' observes on my return 'best you take a  deep hot bath'. Giving the hateful soap a wide berth I squeeze a good dollop of l'Occitane Verbena into the steaming water.

As days go I have no complaints. Rain is the least of our problems.