Sun, snow, showers?

Belated good wishes to everyone for Easter. The weather, of course, is behaving quite normally for a bank holiday weekend. Yesterday we went over to Bradford to see Elder Son and family. Here, it had been pouring down while I was out for my walk but stopped as soon as I got home again. (Yes, perfect timing as always!) On our journey over to Yorkshire, we had sunshine at our end and snow on the hills near the other end and...a huge chunk of cold!
Today Elder Daughter is coming from Liverpool for lunch here before her trek back to snowy Sheffield. Younger Daughter in Newcastle, however, reported last night that the weather where she is was fine, no trace of snow.
So all this rambling is really to conceal the fact that I actually don't have anything to tell you. Life is uneventful and, anyway, it's British to talk about the weather and, given the variety we've had this weekend, it's understandable - even if the weather isn't - if you see what I mean.
Ah well, have a good day, everyone.

Waiting and waiting...

A day in my place of voluntary counselling today - sitting there, waiting for four out of my total of five clients to turn up for their appointments. None of them did and none of them rang to cancel and this, unfortunately, is not unusual.
It is, however, frustrating.

Cake and Gosford Park

We were watching Gosford Park on Film 4.
"It must have been such a strange life," I commented, "Your every whim catered for, everyone running round after you, not the smallest thing to worry about - if you were well off, of course."
"A bit like me, you mean?" Keith volunteered.
"Exactly," I said, "You have me to look after your every whim. I reckon I do pretty well, too. At least 9 out of 10. There's just the occasional cake hiatus..."
Keith leaned forward.
"Is that something to do with cake I already ate?" he enquired.
"Possibly," I said.

I've been tagged this week by Rosie so here goes with my offering:
4 movies I'd watch again:
I'm going to have problems here because I don't watch many and tend to forget their titles anyway, but top of the list has to go to the Harry Potter films. (I think there are four of those now, but if not, the next choice would be 'About a Boy.'
4 places I've lived:
Bristol, Ireland, France (only for 6 months), Liverpool.
4 TV shows I watch:
Coronation Street, Emmerdale (much to Keith's disgust and boredom!), Waterloo Road, Coast.
4 people I email:
Dad, Elder daughter, TK (who comments now and again on this blog), Craig (ditto).
4 things I eat:
Fish, rhubarb yoghurt, hot cross buns, paella (but not all together).
4 places I'd rather be:
France, out walking, West Wales coast, Scotland.

There, that was quite painless really. Now, how about some input from Gemmak, Yorkshire Pudding, Daphne and Ian ?

Birds and assignments

I'm working on an assignment for my course this morning. It's amazing how such task avoidance strategies such as vacuuming, dish-washing and dusting suddenly seem so much more appealing, far surpassed, of course, by surfing the web!
And then there's just sitting in the garden, coffee in hand, listening to the birds. Fortunately the gale force winds of the past few days have left us and birds are -twittering past themselves. In spite of the fact that the trees at the back of our garden are still bare, there are signs of much collecting of nesting materials as well as evidence of coal tits, great tits and goldfinches, as well as my old friends the robins.
This is something I really appreciate - having the time to 'be still and listen', and even more so when I hear the playground sounds of the nearby school and remember that I don't have to be there!

An accident waiting to happen

Lovely walk this morning in beautiful, calm, early Spring weather that apparently is not going to be repeated tomorrow.
Then I was invited by Keith to accompany him to Manchester to buy stock for the shop. He really knows how to give a girl a good time, that man! So off we went. I hung around trying not to look terminally bored while he agonised over computer cables, padlocks and other such delights, before whisking him off to Borders for some book-spotting - proper shopping, you see!
Back in Wales, we called in at the shop to unload the booty, and here's where the day went sharply downhill.
"Are you only opening the shutter half-way up?" I enquired as he unlocked the door.
"Well, if I open it all the way, people will start coming in," was the reply.
Funny, I thought the lack of customers had been the big cause for concern during the week. However, mine not to reason why.
So, Keith toddled off into the back with some things while I charged, at my usual pace, back outside to unload more boxes...at least, that was the idea, but I got distracted by a broken sign to my right and failed to percieve that I had not lowered my head before attempting egress. Hence the reason for my sitting here for the last couple of hours feeling extremely sorry for myself and clutching an ice pack to the ostrich egg on my poor, bruised head.
And after the initial care and concern, what conversation do I get?
"Did you have duck for lunch today Ha, ha, ha."
(You'll be ducking yourself, my lad, when I get hold of you!)

New style blog

Well, this is it. I'm taking Yorkshire Pudding's advice (well some of it, or maybe just the general gist of it) and spicing up this blog, in eager anticipation of a money- filled book deal. So, here goes...

He was waiting for me in the living room. His head turned towards the door as he heard my key in the lock. I closed the door, making sure I locked it and sashayed towards him.
"Alone at last," I breathed as I leaned forward and caressed his beard.
For a moment I stood there, immobile, my eyes drinking in the hunk of manhood before me. Slowly, deliberately, he stood up. The computer chair rolled back as I gazed on the coiled spring of masculine pheromones before me. He moved closer and I could feel his breath on my cheek as he bent his head to mine.
"I want to whisk you away to paradise," whispered the throaty voice, "Just let me sort out this hard drive first."

He groaned as he lifted his throbbing head from the smashed remains of the monitor...

(Next episode will be about me molesting one of my clients in the new downstairs loo and calling him The Fling. How's that, YP? How would you like to be my agent?)