How about an unblog?
Granny is exhausted....
The sun is out again. Another insect tale... little brown beelike things this time. They never allowed Granny close enough to see. (There are all kinds of bee-imitators here. In the summer, around the lavender, charming little black-and-white striped things. ) Aged cousin and entirely delightful girlfriend have gone. So have the raging rain storms. No more leaking roofs and electrical short circuits. (In this island, as far as utilities go, rain like British snow, is always 'the wrong kind of snow.')
Paying guests, granny observes, go out and don't need entertaining, unlike family ones. Old men in love she also observes are just as silly as young ones.
(Granny has finished at least the first draft of her book!!! God knows how.)