A wall of roses

Woke up alive, which is nice. I had taken my statin the night before, and so far have experienced no ill effects. Some good writing this morning, in peace as Dan and Greg had finished yesterday, and Lorraine was out for the morning. The sudden sodden whacking of the window cleaner's extendible pole brush kept me on my toes. 

I did some decent writing, still fashioning the poetry MS, and then made off to the gym for the third time this week, however after a bit of mooching about with weights I pushed a bit too hard on the cross trainer, and had to sit down after for a bit of a rest. Mooched home, and Lorraine back from seeing her personal trainer. Took a moment for a meditation, and afterwards Lorraine wrote Dwell happily in the present on our blackboard.

We started to tidy up a bit, and were distracted by a metallic whacking, which we thought was the builders next door, but it turned out to be the effing evil seagull again, whacking up kibbles from the cat bowls.

Rosie called around after work this afternoon, having been at a school in a nearby village. Enjoyed chatting to her. She left just as Betty arrived, as she was coming to stay for the weekend.  James was away with some of his mates. We went to the Spice Village Indian restaurant and had another nice meal, and then popped into the Old Boot for a cheeky glass of beer before coming home and hanging chatting.

Below Beth doing the appropriate pose at an instagram-ready wall of plastic roses in Spice Village.