Just A Post To Soothe My Brittle Nerves

Feeling like my nerves were on the outside I did what I had to do and left Henry's early...

I've left some Italian style pork chops braising in the Slow-Cooker and a lengthy note telling Henry about: The wonky hoover. The wrong size duvet. A dejected uneaten salad and how not to wear his hair.

I fed and watered the cats and left their door open as arranged with Henry. And as I laid the table for tea little Miss Ginger made a much welcomed appearance in the living room. She held her nimble body low, her taut youthful tummy almost brushing the Titian red and old gold carpet. And then she spotted me, did a quick-as-lightning turn, and sped away, back to her sanctuary. The black boy was not available.
I adore them already.

As I write this this my ears are filled with Tamla Motown, my collar is crooked and a half-eaten strawberry yoghurt sits unloved amongst the pens and papers of a sad old writer.