Cleaning.

I have been out Cleaning today. A Holiday Home where people are coming on Saturday. I earned 20 Euros. Did I need this? Absolutely not. But my youngest son felt obliged. My youngest son is The Gardener, by the way so I don’t really understand where Cleaning ever came into this.

It was the same old same old. The only thing to be said about Cleaning is that no one notices the lack of if you did it right. What Cob Webs? What Dead Flies? What Mouse Shit? It is all gone. But I do have to say that there weren’t any Dead Bats. That would have seriously upset me. I like Bats.

It never happened. So he and me swanned through this place. Me, for a bit of fun, and him because he cares. Silly boy sometimes. But he is my son. These are the days when I remember who he is. He largely thinks that I have lost the plot. And he could be right. But I can still clean a house.

Actually it was utterly boring. But there you go.

PPhftt.

I wrote this amazingly funny and really clever Blog tonight. Almost certainly my best ever. But you all are never going to know because I can’t be asked to do it again.

I lost it to God knows where.

This could have been fortuitous because on reflection it was probably Libellous, although I doubt that Mr. Kipper would ever have read it. But then you never can tell. And he wasn’t the only one that I might have been Libelling.

I am thoroughly pissed off with the lot of them. Just pay my Ground Rent. It is only 250 Pounds a year in total.

Yep, you have sussed it. My LeaseHolders yet again.

Six glorious months without a hint or a holler. I thought that they had finally gone away to get on with it themselves, which is what they wanted. Or so they said. Silly me. I actually believed them.

Nothing to be done, of course, unless they want to buy The FreeHold, presuming that I would be in a position to refuse, which I somewhat doubt these days. God help the poor bugger who owns the Flat directly under The Roof. No one wants to know when the rain isn’t directly pouring on to their parade.

I shall do and say nothing. Well, not much, apart from a couple of expletives.

No Ado About Anything At All.

Overcome I am by a desire to write something. Anything. But so little is going on.

No Summer Fetes or Pardons this year. And you don’t realise what you are missing until they don’t happen.

My neighbours still aren’t back from Angleterre so I am still feeding their stray cat. Although I suspect that it might be three cats now. Two bleary articles shoot off in a flurry of dust the minute they hear me coming. But something is eating more food than just one cat could eat. So they probably come back when I have gone.

Masks at the ready again. It has all been a bit iffy until now, but now you have to. I felt like a right Pratt I have to tell you. But what on earth would we do without Ears? I briefly got a bit concerned about this, so I suspect I might be going a bit mental. Who isn’t?

It isn’t raining at the moment, so I suppose that is something to be thankful for, except that I have to water the plants and the Water Butts are rapidly going down. There’s no pleasing some Folk.

I did have a very nice man out today to give me an estimate for Three New Front Doors. I am heartily sick of my Doors, although they could well be 100 years old. They look as though they are. He thought that Rotten Little Swine is lovely, so he could well get the job. I don’t expect to get change out of Five Thousand Euros, which took me a very long time to save. And Rotten Little Swine definitely liked him and barely missed peeing on his leg with excitement at meeting a new People Person. What better recommendation could one ask for when spending that sort of money? Doors? One can only hope. Trust The Dog. There you are you see. Rotten Little Swine is of some use after all. Dear of him.

Much Ado About Nothing.

Well, what? I found a teensy, baby Adder in my outside passageway yesterday. Such a little thing it was and obviously a bit distressed. It was waving it’s head around. Probably looking for its Mummy.

Anyway, not being entirely stupid, I didn’t pick it up, although I was tempted. I really wanted to give it a stroke. I like Snakes you see. But it might not have liked me. It was almost pure Silver with such a lovely head. Really neat.

I scooped it outside in the end with a stick and it shot off somewhere. I can only hope that Rotten Little Swine won’t want to make friends. And that Mummy isn’t still around. Rotten Little Swine can be very stupid now and again, although I don’t think that Adders are all that dangerous.

It was a passing glory for me. My first ever Adder in France.

And then Rotten Little Swine ate all of the Sun Flower Seeds from the low Bird Table. I hope the husks aren’t going to land me with another Vet’s Bill. Sheesh, that Dog is something else. He never ceases to make me laugh. Fucking Idiot. that he is. This dog is insane, but so much loved.

Oh, he pissed against the lavatory door yet again, but at least that is nearly in the garden. Thank God for a tiled floor is all that I can say.

Summer is now on the wane. Most people don’t notice this, but already daylight is getting shorter? Perhaps I have too much time to ruminate about nothing much at all.

Not too long for Christ Mass.