I slept for nearly nine hours last night. It was remarkable. Today, I walked along the coast path with A&L, Tim's in-laws. We did the same in June and, walking back up the steep drive to the caravan, I had to stop and pant twice, to my embarrassment. That was just before the anaemia was discovered and today, after three months of iron tablets, I didn't stop and wasn't out of breath.
I've packed up most of the china and glasses, but haven't tackled the pots and pans yet. There's very little that I'll want to keep. I'll ask Henry, when I see him later, if it's possible to leave them or put them by the bins, rather than take them home to dispose of. If he calls in this afternoon or first thing tomorrow, I'll go home rather than wait until Sunday, but either day is okay. There's still quite a lot of packing up to do but it won't take all that long really. Then I'll hoover and wash the floor and surfaces in the morning - whichever morning I'm going, that is.
Even the internet has behaved itself this visit. There are only two places that I can ever get a signal but, between them, it's quite reliable. The simplest thing to do is to balance the phone on the tv and then pair it to the computer and I've got some work done that way.
I've decided to hold two auctions next year, instead of the usual one, as I have more china being offered to me than I can manage. So I hope the market will hold up. I'm also making plans for when I'll retire altogether. From auctions, not from blogging or anything else, of course. I'll have more time when I don't have china to value or catalogues to write.
I also read half a book yesterday afternoon and will finish it today (Julian Lloyd Webber's memoir Bows and Arrows), which I'm enjoying. Apart from anything else, I like a good pun. I'm sure I've talked about it before, but the first song I ever remember loving was Anne Shelton with Lay Down Your Arms which, having just looked it up, dates from September 1956, the month of my third birthday. Even at that age, I appreciated the play on words (lay down your arms and surrender to mine) - maybe it had to be explained to me, I can't remember, but I do recall thinking it was hilariously clever and witty.
Yesterday afternoon, I put on the kettle for a cup of tea and cleared a shelf of books and leaflets. Some of them were packed to take home but, much as it goes against the grain to throw away any book, elderly pocket guides to wild flowers and butterflies can't even be given away, so a few were destined for the bin. I took them along, stopped to chat to Henry's son who was doing some sorting out, forgot all about the kettle and arrived back to a hot smell. It had only just boiled dry and is undamaged, but it's needed some work with a Brillo pad to scour away the scorching on the outside (and, once it had cooled down, of course I cleaned inside too). I don't usually get so distracted, but all I'll have to do about the caravan once I get home is to cancel the insurance, which is due for renewal next month. Eventually, I'll receive a cheque from Henry once he's sold it and that'll be that. One distraction out of the way for good.
Time to do some more sorting out, if there's to be any chance of going home tomorrow.
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