But first I got out the hoover. The swathes of dog hair were starting to band together and make the carpet look like shag pile. Crikey, that looks a bit rude, shag pile. For those of you too young to remember, it was – er – shaggy deep-piled carpet, popular in the 60s, I suppose. I don’t think I knew anyone who had any. Anyhoo, fortunately the dog is the colour of the carpet, so I’d got away with it surprisingly long, but the time had to come.
So another area is cleared for the moment. A bit of strimming right against the tennis court netting, but the rest is done. The Sage had gone with his sit-on mower two or three times down the middle of the area, but had left a yard or so each side. Though I must give him credit, he emptied the wheelbarrow for me twice before going out. And now it’s raining, within five minutes of coming indoors. So stopping mowing and starting to clear up at 3.45 instead of 4 o’clock was wisdom, darlings, not laziness.
Ben is whining gently and showing every indication of wanting a cuddle. That’s what I’d like too.