It's Bank Holiday Monday so - in Great British Tradition, erm, tradition - it's raining. But this is not just rain; it's the kind of slamming, chilly rain that utterly drenches everything and everybody, accompanied by energetic blasts of icy wind that threaten to lift the roof. As the weather rules out my attendance at a local BH event (can't think of a single one I'm missing) or romping in the park with a bottle of champagne and a punnet of strawberries (which would be downright impossible), then surely I should be baking bread or sorting out my underwear drawer or at least applying complicated fake tan. As it is, I'm planning to put a slow-cooking curry in the oven and down anchor on the sofa to watch Sylvia Plath's life story on DVD (cheery stuff, yes?) followed by The Sound of Music for the 1009th time. I've got four extra pounds of weight to set about losing (hey, I could go to the gym today!) (on second thoughts ...), the bedroom looks like a bomb has hit it (actually that bomb was me, returning home from last week's birthday celebrations in a 'tired and emotional' state) and no less than nine fabulous new books await my attention. If I was so inclined, I've even got some work to catch up on, as per usual. But hey, if the banks have shut up shop, then why shouldn't I?
Happy Monday!
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