10th august - friday . . .

hi babes
vomit of the day coming up:

. . . it's pissing down out there this morning but there's a lovely fresh feel to the air; north wind I expect. It's just as well cos every room stinks to high hell of stale fag smoke so I open all the windows and pull on a jumper cos I'm getting goose pimples and me nuts have shriveled.

arose early cos the broadband engineer could be here any time from 8. have to look my best for the nice man from stirling. that sounded a bit gay; never mind. you have to be part female if you're living on your own, doing the ironing cannot be a man's job and I wouldn't bother, only there'll be the next gaggle of paying guests moving in on the morrow. my mum used to want to iron my jeans; if she had I would have burnt them publicly in protest just as women did with their bras, allegedly, in those strange days.

I let let bogey out for his usual ramble and rabbit chase while I availed the bird-feeding areas of poo with a stiff brush. I usually wait for rainy morns as it washes away the detritus so much easier and this morning was perfect. bogey was out for quite a while and I was getting a bit worried; he usually comes back when I whistle but didn't show for some time. wouldn't be good for community relations if he were to bite tom who would be delivering the post any time soon; he does get excited when people turn up and can be, well, unpredictable.

I had an extended melancholy moment last night as I was flitting between the computer and the telly. not really sure why; poured myself a scotch and coke but it didn't really do anything for me. it was a bit flat aswell cos I hadn't used the coke for a couple of weeks and, no matter how tight you screw the cap on the gas always evaporates. maybe I should get one of those rubber bung thingies. the internet was frustratingly down most of the evening; maybe the man from stirling can sort it out.

I take out the heavy drawers from the old welsh dresser that sits in front of the telephone point and pull it away from the wall. that corner of the room is cluttered with all heather's bits and pieces. at some point I'll have to box them all up. she won't be needing them till the new year but I could use the space myself though I'm not sure what for. the studio's a bit congested; maybe I could spread things around; maybe move the bookcase in there.

gill, my neighbour, will be going into the village at some point to collect the guests' bedding from grants laundry at some stage. if the broadband guy's done his thing I'll probably go in with her. still haven't got round to doing the ironing. must do that today or heather will beat me when she comes tomorrow to help with preparing the farmhouse for the new arrivals. her dad's giving her a lift these day as there's only the one car which I need to get, well, anywhere. I've been looking at landrovers down at lix toll garage but won't be able to afford one till probate's settled for mum's estate. hopefully, she didn't leave her money to the egyptian taxi driver she had an affair with a few years back; but that's another story . . .