At this time of year, there seems precious little - apart from guilt - to keep retired people away from the forgiving warmth of the duvet. Once the breakfast has been consumed and the newspaper read, it's tempting to saunter back upstairs and return to the bed one left such a short time ago.
The leaves are lying everywhere in slushy drifts. Muddy footprints decorate the hall, and muddy pawprints show Puffin's precise itinerary after she has given up her abortive visit to outdoors. I know for a fact that she is snoring (she does, you know) gently on the bed, and my natural inclination is to attempt to occupy the bits of bed that she hasn't yet annexed.
1 comment:
WHAT???
Since I retired I haven't been able to rest for a minute. What with hlping friends, U3A lectures, my politics, blogs and the Internet. Not to mentioning mastering Linux - will I ever, and going into the West End to art galleries, museums, free meetings - there are dozens around, and I am a friend of the Royal Academy, I can't call a minute my own :-(
Ampers.
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