Went to Salisbury for a party last night. Salisbury is very pretty ... unlike my hangover; I don't think champagne agrees with me. It might take me a few days to recover.
When I am feeling a little less delicate I will attempt to clean up this hovel. I haven't even unpacked from my holiday yet as washing and ironing all those summer clothes really isn't a priority. It just makes me feel a bit gloomy. Poor old Mrs Smith isn't feeling quite her chirpiest these days. Mr Smith is being a brick - bless him.
The house next door is on the market for an amazing amount of money. They have been carrying out emergency renovations on their newly, but very badly built, extension. The walls of Jericho were sturdier; we'll avoid trumpet playing. However, if the surveyors are useless enough, maybe we will have nicer neighbours than a mad randy Syrian builder who accuses me of racism whenever I reject his greasy advances. I do hope so. Then we will watch their house fall down.
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