No butts about it

Whilst I've been nursing my ankle, Jack has been deputising as slave driver project manager; this morning he was overseeing the water butt being connected to the downpipe, a job that's only been waiting to be done for, oh, 3 months or so; perhaps I should sprain my ankle more often - anything to shorten the 'chores pending' list? What's the betting that the threatened rain for this week doesn't now happen? If we suddenly join other areas of England under a hosepipe ban then it'll probably be my fault, & my pond plans will be well & truly stuffed. Ideally the butt should've already been full to the brim, as the pond is next on the 'projects (as opposed to tedious chores) pending' list: the liner is on order, the grandson is on standby for in case Jack can't manage to dig that big a hole on his own, & by the end of the Easter holidays the wildlife pond I've hankered after for decades should finally be a reality. I know that it probably won't get much wildlife in it for ages, but have read that it will stand more of a chance if it's filled with rainwater rather than chemical-laden tap water; a few dollops of water from an established pond will apparently speed things along even more, so I've been trying to find out where we can locate such a pond; but accessibility seems to be a major stumbling block, & it may be that I'll have to send hubby out on a solo expedition armed with nothing more than a few empty bottles.

I'm delighted to report that my ankle is healing far faster than anybody could have predicted: it's still a bit painful to put weight on (hence today's blip was taken through the window), but from black, blue & distorted - to green & slightly swollen - to barely a bruise & just a hint of puffiness, all in 3½ days! What is going on here? Even my tooth healed far quicker than expected. For years my acupuncturist fretted about how much damage our damp old home was doing to my health, & I really do think that living in a healthier environment has made a difference - even hubby's asthma has been far less troublesome since we moved here; I wish it could also cure the MS, but I guess that would just be greedy of me.

Things we've learned about Jack:

The strength of his jaw is inversely proportional to how desperate we are to open it: Rule 27c had to be imposed today when he snatched up a stray chunk of insulating fibre which had fallen down through the loft hatch, & I managed single-handedly (hubby being in said loft) to prise his mouth open & extract it; of course it could be that he found it so unpalatable that he was only too glad to spit it out, but I like to think that he was co-operating with me, & duly gave him plenty of praise.

The sound of me laughing out loud sends him into a frenzy of barking; perhaps he's joining in? But assuming he isn't, I really must try to laugh more often so that he gets used to it.