So the May Day Bank Holiday despite a promising start on Saturday, turned out to be a bit of a damp squib. I'd hoped to get cracking in the garden as my runner beans really needed planting out. I'd had them growing in a large pot on the bedroom windowsill but they were slowly creeping closer to the ceiling and I was beginning to have concerns that I'd wake in the middle of the night and find Jack hiding under the quilt between me and Adam, grasping the goose that laid the golden eggs and the words 'fee fie foe fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman' emanating from the roof!
However, Saturday's gardening was put to one side as Adam's mother, who's a widow in her mid 80s had to have her cat put to sleep. Naturally she was devastated. Despite the fact she lives next door to Adam's sister, she felt the need to keep in constant touch with us by phone as unfortunately Adam's sister and brother in law are not 'cat people' and we're very much 'feline friendly folk'. This contact had to be undertaken long distance by phone as she lives in Earls Colne in Essex and we live some 80 miles away in Norfolk. Of course, we didn't begrudge her the time but we had thought we'd have a couple of lovely days ahead of us but, Sunday began dull and windy as did Monday.
By Monday afternoon I decided I just had to do something with my triffid beans so I donned wellies and fleece and spent a couple of hours out there in near arctic conditions. While I was out there I'd noted my Busy Lizzies were more like Droopy Doras as they were becoming pot bound so decided to risk putting them in the ground too - what's the betting we have some really hefty frosts in the next few days?
And then, back to work yesterday morning. I thought I'd have time to get to grips with my latest gruesome article as normally things are pretty quiet work wise following a Bank Holiday but I can only imagine that the dire weather was nationwide and all my clients spent the weekend indoors catching up on their dictation. In between work was no go too - my long haired cat had a bout of diarrhoea and sickness so any spare time was spent on hands and knees on the vinyl floor in the kitchen washing her nether regions!! Needless to say she was thoroughly cheesed off with us and , from the glares she gave us during the evening, obviously felt utterly humiliated.
However, all has not been lost. I've managed to put together a short article on another subject which I hope to have published over the next day or so and I'm still hoping that things will quieten down so I can get to grips with my more detailed article. Watch this space!
The only ray of sunshine over the weekend was the fact that I've apparently lost 17 years off my age! I'm still trying to keep going with the WiiFit on a regular basis and, following a couple of G&Ts on Sunday evening I found that I was able to keep my hips swivelling and keep the old hoola hoop going for about 30 seconds whereas normally it would drop round my ankles after about 3, and I also managed to keep rhythm with the step aerobic exercises. Obviously the alcohol lubricated the muscles. So, I'm pleased to inform you that despite being 48 I now have a fitness age of 31. Think the moral of this story is that it's better to exercise when you've downed a couple of gins than to do it completely sober!!!