Around twenty cyclists in yellow jerseys whizzed past the house this morning, and I probably wouldn't have noticed them but for the ten conversations being conducted simultaneously amongst them. It was like a swarm of locusts, or a group of Italian teenagers, a wall of sound. I looked up as they approached, and every one of them saluted me with a "Good Morning!" as they flashed past. By the time I'd thought of something clever to say they were well out of sight.
Our lives are very restricted at the moment, what with the buster collar and the sore eyes. Poor Hugo is still suffering, his eyes sore looking despite all the drugs I've thrown down and onto him. The skin around the eyes is cracked and red, but at least they are clear now and he can see. Back to the vets tomorrow for another look. He's desperate to have a good scratch but he can't, and so he paws madly at the collar trying to get it off, or comes and rubs it against me trying to get some relief from the itchiness. My legs are black and blue from being whacked into countless times, but I don't have the heart to push him away. As soon as I sit down he plonks himself up beside me and drops his head on my lap, or my keyboard, and then he stretches further onto me, making himself comfortable. But if the only pleasure I can offer him is a good rub and scratch of his dear black body and head, I'm glad to give it.
I've had two quotes for my new shower room out of three so far, both way about the £3000 mark which I had hoped it wouldn't reach. I'm going ahead with it anyway since it will be a big advantage to have another bathroom, and one with a power shower in it, when the house is full, especially at Christmas. I hope the family won't be expecting lavish gifts this year. I laughed when I told them all that the new bathroom would be their Christmas presents, but I'm not sure they thought I meant it.
I did!
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