Gulp

Saturday November 3, 2007

Dolly and I spent a happy couple of hours in Cicely, Alaska, yesterday evening, me flopped on my floor cushions, bottle and glass to hand, and Dolly on the padded footstool to my right, stretched out for the purposes of cuddling and frequent tummy-scritching.

We were both of us determined to ignore the heavens-shattering noise of fireworks outside. Worked quite well, too, even though the stink of burnt cordite hung heavy on the misty air when we went into the garden for a late evening stretch and slightly cough-generating breath of air.

I drank far too much of my bottle of good cheap French plonk. Not enough to be unsteady on my legs but certainly enough to spoil the taste of my dinner. There’s some left in the bottle, but not much.

And then I took myself off to bed, waking at 01:45 when Graham called to say goodnight.

My hangover this morning was short lived and not as severe as I deserved. One big mug of coffee and a quick turn around the garden and I’m bouncing again. Doesn’t take much to restore my bounce these days, for which I’m grateful.

I’m grateful, too, that my new disabled driver’s badge came in the post yesterday. Another three years of privileged and mostly free parking. Most importantly another three years of being able to park really close by the supermarket doors on my bad days.

And now I need to pitch in to a day filled with laundry and house-cleaning. Get that done, and a little shopping tomorrow morning, and it’ll be time to go fetch Graham back for another week of fun and games.

Before he left on bar duty yesterday he came into the study bearing an estate agent’s glossy flier:

Property Wanted!
Thinking of Selling?
Call NOW!

“Put this somewhere safe,” he said. “We’ll need it in a couple of weeks.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Well, alright, three or four weeks. No longer, though.”

“Gulp.”