right now, annoying the Man by singing Cliff Richard songs and arriving somewhere near Verona in time for supper.
But that didn't happen.
already arranged for Rabbit to cover my Brain Doctor days so here we are having a
'staycation' which in my case involves cleaning the kitchen, washing my jumpers and sulking. I am also knitting a garden chair with electrical wire.
The Man has channeled his disappointment into bee maintenance; having planted lots of 'flowers for bees' - his slug-defense strategy is getting progressively aggressive, he is photographing and logging all the insects that come into our garden, particularly the solitary bees and has identified around FIFTY different species of bee just in our tiny city centre patch.
This intense scrutiny also means that he has become an expert in bee First Aid,
frequently placing tired bees near a source of food and rescuing rain-sodden bees. On Sunday I saw him taking a tiny
glass of water out to clean a bee that was muddy and couldn't fly properly.
The Curse of the Diaeresis. - As I said here, Mary Norris of the New Yorker “has consistently irritated me with her stubborn insistence on every bit of peevery that has encrusted the ma...
6 hours ago