I think I have an allergy to pistachios! Is that possible? I know peanuts are a no-no for some people but …pistachios? I guess a nut is a nut? I can’t stop scratching my neck, sides of my face, nose and ear lobes. The latter are red and bulbous. A totally unattractive look. I did say I wouldn’t be here until Monday but I popped over to reply to some comments and thought I may as well share my pistachio allergy with you, just in case I fall to the floor and expire. If it isn’t one thing it’s another. I feel like I am dropping to bits.
I can hardly believe this but the sun is attempting to shine. It has been so bloody cold and windy here over the last two days. Even Chea bombed up the garden, did an abrupt turn and bombed back yesterday. No sneaking through hedges and scaling fences for her yesterday. She isn’t stupid.
I’m going to attempt to spend some time in the garden this morning. Most everything is out and shivering in the soil, except for the runner beans. I’ll give them another day or two and then plant them in their intended spot, unless my impatient gene kicks in and they’ll be ripped from their pots and planted in the ground today. It is hugely satisfying to get everything out of the greenhouse and planted in the garden.
Richard is going to begin work on his Land Rover again this morning but just how long his calcified shoulder holds out is anyone’s guess. He’ll probably work through the pain barrier until he’s done what he wants to do and then tonight, while he’s watching Britain’s Got Talent (which is never admits to watching by the way) he’ll be in agony and taking sneaky looks at me to see if I am witnessing his pain. Men do that don’t they? My father did it. Keep taking sideways glancing to check if you are aware of their suffering. How could we not be?
I think the area of his attention today is the brakes. He’s replaced them once but they are ‘sticking,’ apparently. Not to worry. It will occupy him for a while. I was roped in to helping him ‘bleed’ them last time. Not a success story so I may take refuge in his summer-house (which now has a TV with DVD player, whoop-woo!) and not be available. You probably think that’s mean? It isn’t. And besides, it is very confusing for the neighbours to hear Richard’s manly voice shouting, ‘UP …DOWN …UP …DOWN …HOLD IT! … I SAID HOLD IT!’ And me, exhausted, panting, ‘I can’t …it’s too stiff!’ You would need to be familiar with old vehicles and the complicated process of pumping brakes for the aforementioned to make much sense. Unfortunately I AM familiar with the bloody process.
Having said this I guess the fact that I’ve lived here for twenty-two years stands me in good stead with the neighbours? They know me now so little surprises them.
Right, off to have a good scratch at the pistachio allergy, inflamed mush, and get out into the garden before the sun goes in. Ohh! I can wear the new ‘shades’ that I picked up from Specsavers the other day. Banging.
Take care my lovelies x