Yesterday I went all the way to Bromley, which is so far way it's in Kent, in order to deliver some plastic bottles to the chap who is making his plastic bottle greenhouse. When I got there I couldn't find it. I searched and searched. I went up Burnt Ash Lane and down Burnt Ash Lane but all to no avail so I then drove my car crammed full of plastic bottles all the way home. Ah, all is revealed, there is a Burnt Ash Lane and a Burnt Ash Road and I had the wrong one. I am never wasting a very hot Sunday evening doing that again.
I dream every night of my big walk. Every morning I awake exhausted. Mr Smith had to replay the World Cup all night- Bravo Spain, Hard cheese Holland - so he must be totally wiped out.
A cow has arrived for mending. I remember mending this one before. The only really awful bits are where I repainted it. Oh well, they've come back for more. I am not quite sure what to charge. I am starting my Louis Vuitton handbag fund but I don't think I can be that greedy.... there again, I've got their cow and if they want it back they'd better cough up.
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