Wet Windy Woeful

I didn't particularly enjoy my Bank Holiday weekend.

There was Geoff's funeral to go to. It was a such a beautiful service but terribly sad. Afterwards I went to visit Matty but couldn't stay long as Bert was at his Bee-Keeping Course and Pearlie and Lizzie were on their own. I rushed back half expecting to find Lizzie lying in a heap in the hearth and Pearlie unable to lift a finger to help her. And there were Hannah and Dirtbird who'd been at home all the time. I'd not heard them creeping in the previous night and had I realised that there was a younger presence in the house I might have stayed longer with my old bird.

Bert arrived home at around six to tell me the news that we were entertaining the Banjos. Everyone who knows me is aware that I just love having these things sprung upon me. But still, that's the price I must pay for not using my mobile phone.

Next day, while Marty, Bert and Ben went sailing model boats at Bridgend, Jazzer and I took Frank and Bonnie to the bluebell woods in the hope of catching a shot as amazing as this. Sadly Frank and Bonnie proved far less co-operative models than the charismatic, acrobatic Gracie.

Today Hannah woke up with Swine Flu and I went to the Pet Emporium to buy Bonnie a new squeaky toy as she and Paddy pulled her cracker in half. Then I did some house-cleaning and tidied my external hard drive and finished listening to Middlemarch.

And Pearlie is pissed with me because I spilled her Movicol over her emery boards and lost her stockings in the wash.

Tomorrow I return to work. Sigh.