Monday 1st November

After the relative mayhem of the last few days, I am pleased to report that today has been quite quiet. 

Ronnie sat and watched me doing some boxercise with Chloe.  “I don’t think you can be doing it right,” she said after a few minutes.  “You never seem to get past those pads she’s holding up.”  Trying to explain it was purely for exercise was an even greater effort than the boxercise itself.

Then there was a quick trip down to the post office to get the newsletters off to all those advertisers.  Deirdre would be proud of me.  No gossip to report, unfortunately, as the hairdresser is having a few days off, so there was no entertainment as I waited in the queue.

I spent a short while looking at Facebook, while the OH watched over my shoulder.  “Good god, that girl looks almost like Celeste,” he said at one point.

“That girl is Celeste,” I told him.

There was a sort of ‘harrumph’ from behind me and then he decided that he’d be better off elsewhere, especially since there was a knock on the door.

“Who the hell is calling at this time of night?” he muttered, trying to disguise his embarrassment at having failed to recognise his own daughter.

It was Susan, a familiar sight in the village as she pedals around doing favours for others less mobile than herself.  This time, she was selling poppies in advance of Remembrance Day.  The OH rummaged in a pocket and claimed two poppies in return.

“What about Ronnie?” I reminded him.

Susan gave him a steely glare.  “It’s for charity after all,” she said, rather archly I thought for someone who’s generally so good-natured.

There was another ‘harrumph’, some more money went into the collecting tin and Ronnie was given her own poppy.

“Thanks, Susan.  See you at the bonfire!” I called out to her as she strode off again into the cold.

“This radiator’s not working,” was all the OH could think of to say.

It felt fine to me.