The old man made me a cafétier of coffee. Right nice it was. Then I added the last dregs and it was thick, sour and horrid and nearly wiped away the delectable first taste. All was not lost, on the wooden board there was a piece of Jim's toast from this morning. I slathered it with Danish butter, and the crunchy, wheat toast did the trick.
I have spent the last hour and a half wittering away my life on this wretched lap top.
Facebook, emails, more Facebook, ridiculous time wasting rubbish.
But now I must upstairs and write.
Today I was asked to be guest on a naughty internet radio station. Yee ha.
I also went to hot yoga. 39-41 degrees.
Went shopping. The price of food is harrowing. Came home to discover that the £7.00 bottle of olive oil cost £14.99. I had a fleeting thought to take it back since there was a ticket saying it was reduced to £7.00, in the event I've kept the bottle for dipping functions, balsamic vinegar and hot, fresh bread.
My 'oosbind has a drawer in the dresser, next to mine. My drawer is full of cheque books, receipts, old spectacle cases, photographs, an old Elastoplast tin full of hair grips, two lipsticks and me driving licence, plus mountains of paper stuff. Jim's is full of tools, medicines, glue, spare business cards, small instruction manuals, gloves, some batteries, three penknives, pencil sharpeners, sewing kit and a cigar cutter. He says his drawer sounds more interesting than mine.
Still the reason I tell you about the contents of our drawers is to reveal that hidden in between his detritus were three pedometers. He set up the talking one, an American woman asking me about my stride length. With my hot yoga outfit on I set out to do at least 6,000 steps. Apparently the required amount for fitness.
It was freezing, mud everywhere. I went down the hill and by the time I got to my tree I had done nearly a thousand steps. I knew the walk was going to have be the back road otherwise only four thousand steps would have been stepped. So I power marched through puddles, shouted to a rabbit and giggled with a squirrel. Crows cawed, pigeons cooed and there was the occasional bark from hidden dogs.
A bonfire on Frogspawn Bend threw out some warmth, the woodcutter said I wasn't walking hard enough if I was still cold. So I upped my game. On the slope I had done four thousands steps. By the time I rounded the pub, onto my last stretch, there was the glorious six thousand mark. In one hour I'd managed to do over six thousand steps.
I was warm. My thighs hurt. Now I've exercised my fingers on this 'ere keyboard, exercised my mind on this ere blog, and all being well I will exercise my legs getting up the stairs, exercise my balance climbing in the bath, then exercise my discipline before I really do apply myself.
The old git has just offered a game of Scrabble, bugger bugger and bugger, how can I turn him down?
Scrabble has won out. I will work into the night - or not!
Jeni Barnett tells of her scrumptious time at Good Food Live in her first audiobook! Download NOW from iTunes
£14 for a bottle of oil? I'd expect to dab it behind my ears at that price. Which internet station will you be on?? So miss you on the radio. LBC has very shrieky, annoying women presenters these days. Missing u!