Two weeks since I last posted? How did that happen? In fact where's July gone? Turn your back for two minutes etc. etc.
I'd like to be able to say I've spent the past fortnight being fascinating - entertaining hordes of people at garden parties and throwing neighbourly barbecues. Or being productive - building a conservatory, say, or reinstating the ancient art of tatting (actually, I wouldn't mind a go.) Hell, I'd like to be able to tell you I've been sunning myself on a yacht in the Mediterranean, but t'would all be a big, fat lie.
Firstly, the sun has officially buggered off - in our part of the world anyway. At any given time I can be found trudging up and down the garden with wet washing slung over my shoulder, and when I'm not dragging the washing off the line I'm drying the dog, because walking through the fields in the pouring rain makes her soggy. (Me too, actually. Not a great look. My hair swells up in the damp.)
It can't be right. It's supposed to be summer.
A highlight has been a swine flu scare. No.1 son quietly took himself to the doctor's a couple of days ago, but his temperature wasn't high enough to qualify. I think he was secretly disappointed.
Other than that I've written some stories, sold a couple, fretted over the novel, worked at the library and cleaned the house in preparation for a visit from my mother in a couple of weeks. Which is ridiculous, because everything will be dirty again by then.
Ah well, it may not be fascinating, but it could be worse. We could actually have swine flu.