Survival

It did rain, in the end - but none of the dramatic downpours, no lightning or thunder that I was aware of, just rain such as we're perfectly used to here, and not in any great quantities. Friends further north told of their house vibrating with thunder, or lawns squishy with torrential rain; here there was merely cooler air this morning, and a wonderfully fresh smell. It's not as if we've actually had a very long dry spell these last few weeks, though the reservoir we passed the other day on our way back from the beach looked low. Apparently lorries have been seen taking water from around here to drier parts of Argyll ...

In other news, I woke feeling utterly shattered (I blame the Old Lady Swimming I tend to do in the sea when I'm not entirely sure of its wholesomeness) and wondering if I'd actually be able to function at Pilates or to survive it. I was so fed up feeling this way that I went anyway, and despite being quite cautious with some of the moves came away feeling much better. It's a head thing, really, as much as a physical one, and the class members are always good for a laugh and a chat.

The rest of the day slithered past in a welter of small activities. A Man came to see us about repairs to our front garden steps (all 17 of them - I used to count them as I hauled the pram, complete with baby, up from the front gate. I burst two pram springs that way...) and we decided to instal a couple of hand rails in the exposed places. It's funny - I'm so used to them I don't think about it, but I've noticed friends of our vintage going down very cautiously, especially after a sociable evening. While this was going on, I was engaged in clearing out the bottom cupboard of the larder - not something I've done in a long time. There were only three out-of-date-so-badly-I thought-I-should-pay-attention items, but the rest I arranged carefully so that (a)I can actually see what they are and (b) they are in order of age. I feel quite virtuous about that. 

And then? A spot of packing (going away for a few days), a bit of emailing, some Italian - and suddenly the afternoon was over and it was time to cook. And by the time I'd eaten I was once again exhausted. I think I'm getting old. 

Bother.

Blipping the single bloom produced by Josephine Bruce this year, opening beautifully in the rain. I feared the move from crowded border, where she's been since the late 1980s, to a pot on the new patio, might have killed her off, but she seems to have survived. 

Like me ...