tardy

oh, I've been slack this week. Blame it on my sore back, lack of sun and Wimbledon. I decided that I would get outside more this week- walking, maybe ride my bike along the Thames Path and perhaps just to lie on the Green in the sun. Well. I went outside every time I went to the gym. I was outside when I went grocery shopping. I went outside when I swept the entrance to the flat and I was outside for most of yesterday when I went into town on a mission for Haim. Not much sun this week- well, for the sun-worshippers amongst us anyways; I went for a lovely long walk along the Thames Path towards Chiswick on Monday and sat for a while watching the cricketers at Old Deer Park. It was wonderful to sit in the sun and soak up some vitamin D until I smelled something a bit funky. Dog shit. Now why is it that most people can scoop it up but there's always that ONE who refuses to- as if their life is not affected by it. Well, why don't they let their dogs crap at home then? Not in a communal space designed for children and adults to use for recreation and leisure. Something needs to be done about these slack pooper-scoopers! I am on a mission now. Don't quite know what I'll do if I see someone not scooping but I usually stare long and hard at them and (I hope, I think- as a result of this tactic) I recently witnessed the resident homeless guy on the Green scooping. Success. Albeit a past success!

So my decision to get outside this week worked (even if there wasn't too much sun) and as I was out today I got caught out in a 10-minute downpour. It was in a moment of sheer London madness that I didn't take my umbrella into Richmond when I went out today (well, the sun was out, blue sky above and it was looking pretty promising). I ended up with wind-blown hair highlighted with leaves and stringy wet bits as I walked into the bank, people inside tut-tutting knowingly. I figured it was good for my soul to be wet and make-up free on a Friday afternoon in town. Upon returning home I discovered that my top had the remains of lunch planted on the front as well. cool.

Hamish spent the day at Wimbledon rubbing elbows with tennis players behind the scene but I just got to watch it on tv. Something gets lost in the translation I think!

Anyways, I am dedicated to finishing stuff off this weekend- but first finding the excellent wee scissors that mum sent and I've put somewhere 'special' so I won't lose them...I've done the inevitable and can't find them anywhere! Honestly, for those of you that have been to my home recently you will know that everything has a place and a place everything has- so where these scissors have hidden themselves is a mystery...

Oh, I forgot. The Grumpy Old Ladies show was pretty good. Emma offered to pay for my ticket if I didn't laugh...but I did. A lot of what they were saying struck close to home and although I wouldn't consider myself 'Grumpy'...it was true, so true. More than anything it highlighted the eternal plight of women everywhere, no matter what their social standing or age. These three women were great at making it quite succinct and humorous to even the men in the audience. We all have to pick up socks, put the toilet seat down and wait in vain for the slightest romantic gesture from our snoring-cursing-sports-loving-testosterone-filled-hungry-
tired-and-(of course) overworked-man.