It’s a pleasure to watch Natasha warming herself up under the lamp in the morning. She stretches her neck out so that as much heat as possible gets to her skin. She doesn’t spend all day under the lamps by any means, but scampers about the whole area of her run, clearly enjoying the ability to roam about. I have gravel, sand, earth and weeds in various places, with big pieces of bark, large stones and pieces of chalk for her. Anastasia has refused to stay awake and has burrowed herself away again. I suppose I’ll have to resign myself to hibernating them separately and I’ll bring A indoors when I want her to wake up and N to go to sleep.
I must remember to put the box with Edweena in to a safe place where children can’t find her. There will be ten of them here on Sunday, of various ages, and I can’t be sure that they will all resist the temptation to open the box and look at her. She’s in the coldest bedroom at present but I’ll put her in a wooden box as well as her cardboard one and put her into the attic.
I like these tortoises but I worry about them more than is healthy. They should be such relaxing pets, I’m sure.
I’m not far off being ready for Sunday lunch, though I’ve had a lot of callers today and it was far more fun to chat to them than to get on with housework. Anyway, the wine I ordered has turned up, all three dozen bottles, including the crate of Prosecco that will be called on (or rather a bottle of it at a time) whenever anyone feels anything less than cheerful. It’s sort of the opposite of the importance of being earnest.