I’ve been to the shop and laid in supplies of fruit. I’ve been to Thr3shers and bought some chilled wine. I’ve visited the bakery and bought some particularly nice bread, which I’ve eaten with cheese and home-grown tomatoes and cucumber. I’ve drunk a glass of said chilled wine.
These are my preparations for doing the ironing.
Does it occur to any of you that I’ve spent the last half-century in working out ways of making the best of things? Darling, you’d be right. I don’t like ironing at all, but I don’t much like wearing creased clothes either. I will sit in the drawing room, fruit dish to the side and board in front, television on (it’ll be a miracle if there’s anything watchable on, but hey, I’m easily amused) and I will feel, at the end, that the aftenoon has not been badly spent.
Tonight, babysitting. It’s bee night again.