My To-Do list expands exponentially. I chase after it like the dog after a stick. I am almost organised, but not quite.
I love going south to see the Beloved Cousin, and I have the great glory of Cheltenham to look forward to. All the same, I shall miss these dear faces:
I think he knows I am going:
But he has the finest dog-sitters in the county, and The Horse Talker will see him every day, and no doubt, at some stage, I shall give in to my most idiotic instincts and ring up on the telephone so he can hear my voice.
The horses are fine. Although I have been told that Red gets a little duchessy and cross when I am gone. But I fret slightly about my lovely Stanley, on account of his chequered past. Still, I cannot be the women who never leaves home again on account of a canine.
Spare room, all spruced up for the sitters:
This is what the daffs look like now. I wonder how far along they shall be when I get back:
And the snowdrops, which might still be going, although I fear I shall miss their pomp:
And the beloved hill: