Blog Day Afternoon

It’s a month since I last did a blog. I vaguely planned to do one a weekish… so what’s stopped me?

Well, anything can happen during the Dog Days of summer, as that brilliant Al Pacino film told us. (I think it was Al Pacino – he was trying to do a bank robbery (in August) and it all went horrendously wrong).

But it’s a well-known fact, apparently, that the sultry days of July and August, with their sweaty discomfort and festering disease, cause people to go bonkers. So there was that to contend with… and the rest of the time I was doing a lot of Stuff – vital Stuff.

And I had to get my hair done. Revitalise the streaks this time – custard highlights and a hint of Fantasy Pink, as Sandrine calls it. I love Sandrine– she’s friendly and bubbly and talks at the speed of a machine-gun. She’s always happy to explain the bursts I didn’t quite catch, so I learn loads of useful banter words and come out looking GORGEOUS to boot (refer to Profile Photo).

Mind you, it was a rocky road finding Sandrine: I’ve been turned effervescent orange, frizzed like Leo Sayer, and then some Fiend with a Bet Lynch beehive, black nails, big jewellery and a voluminous chest (of which I was quite envious), gave me a no2 Skinhead. Not sure why... but if we hadn't found George’s army cadet balaclava I'd have been sobbing in the cellar for six months.

Anyway, we have several serious projects for the summer: for a start we'll have to clean all the windows before the first of our visitors arrive - usually we convince ourselves that people coming round to Make Merry won't notice concretised bird splat on the upstairs velux, but you feel more effort is only fair when people are spending days and nights here.

We should finish the half-done paint job on the landing, and start the paint job in our bedroom. George has made huge inroads into outside renovations - chunks of wall inexplicably fell off when he redid the shutters so now he's redoing the wall.

Sadly he's been thwarted in grass-mowing by the scary noise the lawnmower suddenly started to make. He immitated it (eerily well) to a professional gardener friend who said if he used it again the blades were likely to fly off (in an Omen-like manner). So now it's languishing in the repair shop.

So there we are, and I'm off to do more Stuff.