Leaf piles

Whisky and I made piles of leaves in the garden - I raked while he supervised. Vic and Bob, the compost rats, stayed sleeping on top of the compost. I like the rats, but then I would. I've decided that they're all around us in London anyway, so why not bond a little with the ones I can see. When I say 'bond', I mean talking to them when I deliver something to be composted - 'Broccoli leftovers meet your fancy, Mr Vic and Bob? Teabags? What about some lettuce a bit past its prime?' 'Sniff' says Vic or possibly Bob. Then they disappear down the ratway. Oh well. Maybe they'll peruse the menu a bit longer next time I visit.

I'm feeling more than 100 percent today, really on top of the nasty bug and with a bounce in my step, as though losing a quarter of a stone, not drinking tea, living in the little girl's room, and being a grump/zombie for several days is good for the soul. Maybe coming out the other side and discovering that I have my appetite for tea and biscuits back is enough to bring on the joy of living.

However, as was feared yesterday, Fred's come down with my bug plus a cold. He's been running a high temperature all day, but it seems to be coming down a little now. Poor man. It's my turn to be nurse.