We are off to Wales this morning.
We are half packed. The house is in disarray. The washing machine is still whirring inexorably on.
The cat is sulking and spending half her time eating the sofa as if to say: ‘This is your leg I’m attacking really’, and the rest of the time chasing her tail.
I do not have to worry about the tortoise. She went to chokey yesterday.
I do have to worry about lists, lists, endless lists, and whether everything will fit into the car as we attempt to squish everything we cannot live without – which seems to be half the house – into a small VW Polo.
This is my retreat week. The weather promises to be bleak, but we have underfloor heating, access to delicious food, and a dry wood pile so we can light endless roaring fires.
This is the same location we turned up at two years ago only to find that all my clothes had been left behind.
It isn’t going to happen this time, but I’m sure there will be something we forget.
There always is.
I may or may not blog, depending on whether the WiFi works and how I feel. I promise to eat splendid food, read splendid books, and crack on with my knitting.
I will regale you anon.