The seaside was so stunningly wonderful. I arrived in glorious sunshine then watched it change as a treacherous storm blew in with high seas and fearsome winds followed by driving rain. I stayed for almost three days until I could bear no more then wrenched myself back to reality.
I have now returned to the bosom of my family who seem overly pleased to see me. "What's for dinner? Have you paid the paper bill? When are you going to put up my trousers and do the ironing? The dog needs a walk. And by the way the hoover is broken." I do love them but my homecoming just doesn't involve the little band and bunting I have in mind. The dog seems pleased to see me although he is soggy from his wet walk which makes him far less therapeutic to stroke.
Now what shall I cook for dinner? Why can't they all eat dog food and do their own ironing? You simply have to empty the hoover occasionally then it works like a dream.
I feel a painting coming on. That'll keep me occupied.
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