mysterioso?
Disappearance of one of Granny's best - guest - pillowcases off the line. Why?
Local linen-thief? Blown off by wind? Beloved removed it? 'No of course not," says Beloved. So why did it turn up 24 hours later mixed-up with his clean washing?
Hour-long power-cut last night?
Overload here? No, whole island as seen out of window is black too. Inefficiency by electricity company? Of course not, heaven forfend... Except this is August and all utilities short-staffed. So: go figure.
Why are curtains suddenly all too short?
Mysterious clipper? Granny's eyesight? No, much too economical to use prohibitively priced cleaner, she washed them all; in cold water of course, very carefully. But.
Cats totally disappeared and/or making even more ridiculous noise than usual?
Cats kidnapped/unfed/growing ever more Siamese and neurotic? No: she has managed to teach them to use the cat door/ neglected to fill their water/food bowl/started cutting up fish on a surface above their heads.
Mysterious sounds of London police sirens echoing round her house?
Migration of London police cars to Lanzarote? Mysterious waves from outer space wafting London sounds down across the Atlantic? - no, though this is a bit more like it, thanks to Telefonica ADSL (broadband to you.) But all it really signifies is that Granny wastes too much of her time these days checking on the Trafalgar Square plinth online and feeling a little home-sick. Beloved never wastes his time like that: but that's Beloved for you.
So you see: Granny is hard-pressed for real drama. This is August after all on her island - when everything and everyone goes to sleep -or goes camping, though, due to recession, there are far less of them doing that this year. While all she does - apart from scolding Beloved and Mr Handsome for upping the water bills by doing ridiculous amounts of watering, rather than waiting to plant when the rains come like everyone else (they are beginning to listen: good) is wash/sort linen, sort jams/chutneys in date order, wash curtains, teach cats to negotiate cat-flap, tolerate dogs and manage without their cat tray -do you want to hear about all this any more than she wants to do it? OF COURSE NOT.
You are quite free to go elsewhere, even if she can't.
Roll on September.
PS. Life not so bad really if a trifle boring. Right now, here comes the sun... doesn't it? Or maybe not.
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