Dating darling blog
Posted by Jeni in | 2 November 2017 I've been shamed by the Borowski family, who wrote such a delicious blog that I've come straight to the attic, put the heater on, donned thick woollen socks, opened up my blog and started writing.
Trump and May, dominate my political head, but their antics are so confusing and dastardly that I have to turn off the news.
Nothing like an intimate chat over the soups to know who your friends are.
So sorry to disappoint 'Grancangirl' but I am still bleating lots of rubbish on radio, telly and various salubrious venues, which you dear girl, will probably never turn up to, being superglued as you are to your trolling station.
It will be a 'You Tube' sensation if we ever get it finished.
I await news on this and that and on Wednesday and Thursday of next week I'm on Radio Sussex, talking to all and sundry from Hassocks to Henfield, Burpham to Bolney, which by the way has a terrific gastro pub THE EIGHT BELLS, run by a lovely mother and daughter who serve achingly good soup and sandwiches as big as a Manchurian Scaffolders biceps, and chips to halt a diet.
Autumn has arrived with a flourish, yellow trees, orange shrubs, birds a plenty filling up on the peanuts that the old git has hung everywhere, and leaves.
Leaves everywhere, on the way to the car, outside the kitchen, in the front garden, by the verges, down the road and in piles that the 'oosbind created with his leaf blowing machine.
I packed the rucksack with Coconut water, bean sprouts from the cheap shelf, creme caramel for the old git and my paper.I set off down hill for my last three hundred steps.Got to the Farm, and called my chauffeur who obliged.He was merrily causing havoc whilst I was out buying provisions for dinner, when I got back he was running like a young thing into the garden.He'd been busily burning all the pruned wood, clothes in the wash as we both smelt like a Kebab shop, and had completed the task by emptying the cinders into the garden behind the studio. little did he think that the cinders were still incendiary. In his excitement at completing all his jobs, he failed to realise that the ashes were still hot, the fence between us and the neighbours, but two years old, was on fire. On went the hose pipe, to put out the flames, we had our own little forest fire.