Welcome to my perfumed garden

Methinks (heh) it is the best thing on Radio 4 by far right now. A thing of beauty indeed.

Well, I'm mid-workout and still have a bathroom and 2 bedrooms to clean. Been to the shops and the bank though, replenished supplies of Winter Nips and dried milk. Dear God. It's all go, isn't it?

You'll already have heard the genius of Tim Key. If not, I recomend you trot along to Listen Again and have a delicious gander (Michael Palin and Mitchell and Webb are on too, if that helps).

to Just a Minute on R4? Oh dear god, the silly voices, such sublime silliness! ::wipes eyes::

I'm otherwise en-mired in chapter 39 of the novel but taking a wee break with a cuppa should anyone want to know. The cat just came in. It's looking like rain.

The cat just forced himself inside a small box full of home-made wines, all I can see are cork-tops and a head. This is going to end well...

Posting from the garden, the sun is out, all is lush and green and lovely. Stephen Fry is talking glorious nonsense on listen again on fabulous Radio Four, (two national treasures in one delightful, easy to use package!) I have tea, everything smells of mown grass and jasmine, swallows swooping in the field at the back. What a lovely country this is, to be sure.

I am glad to be alive today.

I just thought I'd mention it, for the record and all that.

Cold as ice and should be beaten regularly with sticks.

The Middle classes? There won't be any left by next week, they'll all be fighting over the last tin of baked beans in a burned out Waitrose.

And, oh dear, that last story about the 'self-proclaimed seventh best (model train) modeller in Britain'.

Is there any finer way to begin the weekend than the News Quiz on the radio in a warm kitchen with a glass of lightly-chilled Old Peculiar in one hand, a herb-marinated olive in the other? For it be Friday, my darlings. May it be all that you dream. (o:

is eversoslightly squiffy. Does it show?

That pink is so PINK O:!

So, I bought the wrong shade of paint. Bit of a cock-up on the decorating front*. We were in a hurry, I was being harassed* and I gave the good lady of B&Q the wrong colour card so now I've wasted £18 and two hours of my life painting my kitchen like Barbie's boudouir. ::heaves a heavy and heartfelt sigh:: If anyone out there needs 2 litres of Dulux Thai Dream #5, you know where to come.

So in a moment, we have to drive back to bloody B&Q for the correct colour, a nice (I hope) warm orangey, terracottery not too pink, pink. Might as well get the green for the stairs while we're there, I suppose. I can undercoat the stairs when we get back so the day isn't entirely wasted but...

::sighs again::.

I did get to listen to the most excellent Afternoon Play whilst defacing my kitchen; The Last Days of Grace by Nick Warburton.
Easter Monday 1908 sees snow on the ground as WG Grace contemplates another day in his long cricketing career. Arriving at the Oval, the ageing icon cannot bear to sit in the clubhouse to meet the usual people. Instead, he trudges out into the cold to face a different type of questioning. It'll be on Listen Again for a week if anyone's up for 60 minutes of spanking radio drama.

Anyway, tea's all drunk - back to B&Q and the painting I suppose. See you all at supper time. ::waves::


*Ooh missus! Two seventies sitcom references in the one post! A virtual Toblerone to the first to tell me which they are!

and listen (if you haven't already done so) to The Reunion; Withnail and I - for tis a joy and a wonder. *g*

*Crossposted to withnailandi