I was so tired and flat yesterday I didn't post. Barbs and I both seem down with a bug, and I think I just gave all I could give finishing the book.
Anyway, I've recovered a bit of mental tone today, and did a little writing, and a serious redistribution of the broccoli volunteers to field outside where the chookabago has been plowing. If they grow, they grow. If they don't they don't. And if we end up with sheep in there and they eat broccoli they probably be little grunting wool-balls.
We went out this evening to the annual meals-on-wheels dinner at the pub. (Barbs does meal-on-wheels) only to find our wheels... well one was half flat. The top half was fine, but the bottom half wasn't... We have 4 more tires coming over in Peter's container so let's hope it's fixable to hold us until then. And then we had scottosh dancing which seemed entirely made of twists turns and utter chaos. I such talent for the last part.
What about swords? It doesn't really count as Scottish dancing if there aren't any swords, does it?
ReplyDeleteI can only be deeply grateful for an absence of swords. Firstly I would have probably cut my own fool head off, and secondly Mary (our 97 year od instructress, would have cut it off for me, if I failed to do it for myself.
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