Have I ever mentioned how much I dislike William Wordsworth? R and I almost came to divorce over my contempt for the Great Poet before we’d even got engaged. The relationship survived the row – just – but we’ve never been back to the Lake District since, and it’s almost thirty eight years ago now.
Thanks, William Wordsworth. No, really – thanks a lot.
Anyway.
It was another horrible, rainy day. So I photographed a jug of supermarket daffodils in the conservatory, and in the process noticed that my Seville oranges – which I’d left in there because it’s the coldest room in the house – weren’t looking as perky as they had on arrival, a week ago. Sigh. So then I made marmalade. Which was a bit of a chore, but on the plus side means that I get to have marmalade on my toast tomorrow morning.
Oh, and I started another Angela Harding jigsaw. So that’s good, too.
R: L2, C4, D9.
