Life is a Bowl of Cherries

Life is a bowl of cherries especially when the inside of the house is cooler than the outside. Despite the cloud cover, the breeze was straight off the Sahara as we cycled forth to buy salad ingredients in the Morningside of 'fur coats and nae knickers'.

I will whisper that I'm beginning to get ever so slightly tired of salad and summer fare, and will embrace winter stews and sprouts in due time, but not just yet if it means an end to this Mediterranean climate which has been 7 years in coming, years in which my five of my grandchildren have never known a homegrown heat wave.

I didn't mind being woken early again this morning by his Lordship to hear that my picture of St Bernard's Well in Stockbridge had hit the local paper.
The last time it happened, another blipper, who shall remain anonymous, brought me down to earth by telling me I had sold my soul even though no money had changed hands.

The sun has now found it's way out from behind the clouds and my former running partner is coming to inspect the Dower House this afternoon. We will sit outside under the sun umbrella and play catch up with news.
Life is indeed a bowl of cherries today.