A top o' the morning to you - Mr Smith is in Oirland He flew from New York to Dublin last night and should be there now, if his aeroplane hasn't fallen out of the sky in a haze of volcanic dust. Then he'll swim. Meanwhile I have to get some semblance of order into this mad mess we call home. I am of course really looking forward to Mr Smith's return and hearing all his golfing stories and doing his laundry and cooking him meals. First I have to clean up this hovel. I was just getting used to it looking comfortably lived in.
Last night I collected Granny's painting, now my painting. Today I will hang it on the wall and admire it lovingly. It's not really worth an enormous amount which I am quite happy about as Mr Smith was going to flog it and live off the proceeds. Well he can't. I'm thinking of holding an "Admire my 17th century Dutch painting" party - dress appropriately.
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