Z sleeps

Oh, dear. Old age has surely arrived when a Bank Holiday gives an excuse for an afternoon nap. Is it worth giving an excuse? I had been out in the hot sun and we're not used to much heat at this time of the year. More than two hours of sunshine exhausts us.

Worse, it was more than the 10-minute catnap that refreshes without taking time out of the day. I had my head down for the best part of an hour and a half. When I woke up, Ro was still working on his computer - the frightening thing is that he was actually working; day job sort of thing. Not work that he would have been doing in the office, but improving his website-writing technique. Actually, he's been spending a fair bit of the weekend working on a website for his brother - Al, who was so sniffy about my blog a couple of weeks ago, has decided to go public for the sake of greenness. I'll put up a link when the website is up and then both my sons will be outed. After all the lengths I've gone to, to keep their identities private. Hah!

Still well behind with the veg garden. I can't plant anything out unless it's netted, and I haven't enough netting. It's been too hot to work in the greenhouse, so I didn't do any work there until 6.30 this evening. The Sage, darling man, took care of dinner and brought me chilled wine, which has upped his Merit score considerably. When he reaches the end of the column, he will receive his due reward. He's quite excited already.

The good news is that I've finally caught up on the 1000-plus posts waiting for me when I came home with my new computer a week ago. You will have my full attention from now on.

I've finished the first book of the Book Binge month. It was a re-read, actually, but I haven't read it for almost forty years. Bury me in my Boots, by Sally Trench, made quite an impression on me when I read it in the late '60s. In her teens, she decided to live and work among down-and-outs in London and did so by simply joining them, in the first place. When I was a teenager, beggars simply did not exist outside London and other large cities and, although I was certainly aware of drop-outs, I hadn't, at the age of fifteen, ever met any. Sally was and is a remarkable woman and this is still a powerful, although enigmatic (for she doesn't tell you anything about the other side of her life), book, with a shocking and dramatic ending.

Oh, update (10 pm) TV continuity announcer "is your sexual behaviour normal?" I, who was innocently waiting to watch QI, said "Ew!", startled. Ro said "But this is the BBC, isn't it?" indignantly.