I’m feeling a bit disappointed, as I’ve just had to postpone Sunday’s riding lesson. My cat, Percy, had to go to the vet and is now sporting one of those big plastic collars that make animals look like Andy Pandy.
Anyway, said cat has spent the afternoon reversing around the house at some speed, trying to get out of the collar, and it’s neither sensible nor safe to leave the Boy in charge of him, while I go away. I couldn’t even consider taking him with me, as I otherwise would, because the collar is so large, that to put him in his travel crate for three hours in it, would be torture. And not just for him.
But there’s a silver lining as I’ve just realised that I haven’t had a weekend in the great capital since early September. Somerset–York–Somerset–Prague weekends sound great, until you realise that this means buying your groceries online at 1 am, doing a load of washing as soon as you get home from work and keeping going all evening, rarely going out because you’re too tired, never calling your friends because conversations use up what’s left your spare time and letting your hair grow an inch of grey roots…
Of course, in the meantime, down at Spring Cottage, the oil could be running out as I’ve left the heating to come on for half an hour a day – or worse, it might not be heating the house enough if there’s a cold snap – there might be a leak, the hedge is becoming rampant and the spiders will fill the corners with their webs. But if you look for it, there’s anxiety everywhere and I’m going to make the best of it instead. There will still be riding lessons in a fortnight and, if the house has survived two hundred years, it will survive two more weeks.
So I’m going to content myself with posting a picture of the small bedroom upstairs, which I realise I’ve never shown before. Yes, it really is only that wide but it opens out at the other end to about twice that width, where there are bookshelves filled with my entire collection of crime novels. And anyway no-one needs to spend much time in there.