What's been going on?

It was pointed out to me last night - rather pointedly, I have to say - that I haven't written anything on the blog for ages. Since June, in fact, as I was told. Smack ma wrist!!

Oh and since I wrote THAT sentence, two more people have been nagging ...

So just a quick update:

Hmm, now what HAVE I been up to? Well, not standing still, that's for sure - in fact, I shouldn't be writing now as I'm waking up dead early remembering things I still need to get done. I'm leaving the UK on Thursday - less than a week now - and apart from a quick dental trip home, I'll be away till almost the end of October, and then off again in November.

So - where have I been? I've been sailing (and feeling rough first day) out of the Clyde, diving with seals off the Scilly Isles (aaaahhh), going up to York to meet up with friends and a penfriend, dashing to, from and around France, having lunch at the Reform Club in Pall Mall, visiting the dentist frequently and getting the brace wires changed and teeth levelled and bevelled, seeing Mama Mia (Meryl Streep is astoundingly excellent), climbing high high high bell towers (and like the weedy weed I am, squeaking with fear at the tiny uneven spiral steps), and most recently getting a visa for China. Nothing like running out of time and urgent official stuff needing to be done to get the adrenaline going... Oh, and a visit to the Tate Modern. And singing on the swingseat under the stars with candles and rosemary incense and being serenaded by a guitar playing chum! Oh, how wonderful is that!

I just love living outdoors...

Talking of outdoors, Jack rang the other night from Nova Scotia - I'm meeting him at the top end of NS next Thursday evening - he says the weather is awful .. so at 5 this morning, I'm leaping out of bed looking for, and failing to find, my waterproof jacket. Looks like I shall have to take the heavy sailing jacket after all.

My tree trunk coffee table is in pieces across the sitting room floor - my hopes for genteel living, with the artful arrangement of tealight holders, pot pourri, old wooden tray and tulips, are dashed.

Little postscript: in the pub the other night, a man, his young daughter and a little fat old white rough coated terrier - Pip. Off goes the little girl and the dog, only to return in a couple of minutes. 'He won't go past the Chinese takeaway, Da-ad...!' At the bar, people talk, drink and joke with Horace, and Richard, having eaten his dinner, snores on his chair next to the fireplace. It's a thatched local pub for local people.

Now being nagged by my grandson Zia, who wants to play Runescape on my computer ...

Speak soon!