Wake up to the usual Sunday morning monsoon.
Lily is still poorly…hopefully it is not bird flu, swine flu or whatever is the pandemic de jour. I spend the morning tweaking my Climens article for the millionth time (this week), flick through the Observer newspaper and learn a new word (scrufulous), tidy up the garden in a brief window of sunshine whereupon I worry about the carpet of moss which appears to be winning the war against the grass and then cook some scrumptious homemade hamburgers for dinner. I could tell you the recipe…but I would have to kill you (although it does contain parsley.)
Afterwards, Lily is sick, although I manage to dangle her over the toilet just in time. Once we have tidied her up, soothed her brow and congratulated her for not ruining the duvet, we settle down to watch a the wonderful wartime inter-racial drama “Small Island”. By now, my nose is running but not blocked. I pray to God that my nasal passages will be clear by the time of tomorrow’s Gaja tasting.
Filed under: Uncategorized
