This weekend, I am in the midst of chaos that I am about to flee!
Decorators are moving in to Crawford Towers to wreak havoc and to restore calm. And I am off to London for a few days rather unexpectedly.
It turns out that my perpetual hen-pecking of GJ has borne fruit and he is condescending to allow me to accompany him on his business trip, amid some glowering, a knitted brow or three, and 32 gritted teeth...
Now that Grizz is safely ensconced at Uni, you see, I need not remain at home to mop brows, rustle up beans on toast, and wrestle stray socks... I am... Whisper it! Free.
I have a little remaining annual leave to take before December, with little chance of carrying it over to next year, when they are going to close us down in any case, 'in principle', so I am taking advantage of GJ's business hotel booking (a Holiday Inn Express, so no untold and breath-taking luxury for la Fhina!) to piggy-back along to the Smoke to see the sights.
On Friday, I might even be returning to a haven at home of Redcurrant Glory and Egyptian Cotton, Mellow Mocha and Natural Calico, Raspberry Diva and Fresh Mist.
Pinch me, I could be dreaming. All those rich reds and luscious creams. And that's only Bea's of Bloomsbury! I've already arranged one sweet rendezvous with my fab non-bloggy friend, Sarah, whose gorgeous fizzog I've not clapped eyes on in years, so that will be a real treat.
Ciao mes belles! Mwah! Mwwaaahhh!