Just waved off Mr WithaY's lovely mum, continuing on with her Queen Elizabeth 1 stylee progression round the West Country, saying hello to all her mates.
We plan to go back over to her's in October, by which time hopefully the temperature will have dropped down from the high 30s. Centigrade, American readers. About, oh, anything between 70 and 100 Fahrenheit. I think. Perhaps one of the rocket scientists among the readership could clarify this.
I just had to look up how to spell Fahrenheit. How sad is that?
Reminds me of once having to look up the spelling of the word "Pickelhaub" and finding a truly excellent website as a result. I will link it to here when I finish doing this. Heh.
We are now waiting for our mates to arrive, who are coming over to spend the day with us. I hope they bring their dogs. They have 3 gorgeous springer spaniels, who are always great entertainment value.
Last time they came over, the hounds romped delightedly about in the garden (securely dogproofed to prevent our much-missed but bonkers German short-haired pointer from escaping), while we sat chatting and drinking tea in the kitchen.
After a while it went suspiciously quiet outside. When we looked out to find out what atrocity had been committed, all three dogs were reclining comfortably on top of my once perky and glorious rosemary bush. Using it as a fragrant, aromatherapy spaniel mattress. Looking very relaxed. Like small brown long-eared Roman banquet-goers, in fact.
We looked out at them. They looked in at us, clearly thinking "What? We're being good...and we smell lovely too." Anyhoo, it's pretty much grown back now, so it is clearly time for a visit from the Dogs of Doom, to flatten it out again.
The sun has come out after what feels like months of endless grey skies and rain, so to celebrate we may drive down to the Dorset coast for a walk on the beach and a pub lunch. Or maybe go for a walk in the woods up here. We'll see what our mates fancy doing when they get here.
Other news: My back is much better. It just feels heavily bruised now, making me go "oooh" when I straighten up rather than going "Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah fuck it".
Saw the photos of the preserved baby mammoth in the paper today. I know it's a huge scientific discovery but I keep imagining Mummy and Daddy mammoth up there in prehistoric heaven, waiting for their little baby to arrive.