I was going to go swimming but the Lovely Claudia appeared with armfuls of daffodils. What a delight. I do have daffodils in my garden and am fiercely proud of both of them; the others are clumps of leaves. Why don't they do flowers? Claudia says it's because we buy sacks of ancient bulbs from cheapy diy stores instead of making careful selections from posh catalogues. Here's what I hate: daffs with scrambled egg middles. A trumpet is mandatory in order to sway nicely to a bit of Wordsworth.
After a hundred years and a hundred postponed appointments at long last the carpenter is coming to fix the shelves in the playroom which means I will no longer fall over a stupid television, Playstation, Xbox, dvd player, radio, wii machine and a snarl of plugs. It will almost be a home cinema - for poor people with no surround sound and a small screen. Mr Smith will no longer have to make a safari through spaghetti wires in order to reach his golf cupboard and all will be well with the world.
I am not going to have time to start my new resolution of front crawl instead of dainty breast stroke today. I have to find a quiet time at the pool as it might be a bit fat and splashy until I become accomplished. With the lovely weather we are having swimming is suddenly rather popular. I am sure I can find a new way to empty the pool of people. I will write a little notice about water contamination or verrucas or something and put it on the door. Actually, Mr Smith might not like to be summoned to the manager's office about his wife's behaviour AGAIN.
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