Moving pictures

Today there were 678 words written for a feature for a Sunday magazine, tedious housework and a walk to the veggie market to buy fresh flowers (which turned out to be an epic fail as by 2.00pm the flower chick had obviously grown weary of the chilly southerly and legged it. On the plus side, both the butcher and the burger guy gave the Hound chunks of meat; in his world, that's like Christmas to the power of 10).

There was also a flurry of picture moving. Yesterday the framer called to say our pictures were finally ready (question: have they joined the slow framing movement?!) including the one below which my friends Frenchie and Martin gave me when I was staying with them in Bristol recently. The new addition necessitated the moving about of art work, and much sighing from the Animator as I exercised my womanly perogative to change my mind.

And so endeth my report from the trenches of a slow Sunday.

  

One of those days

Winter has forgotten to go home. This morning on my walk to work - and again on the return journey - heavy rain sloshed from above.

The bits in-between weren't so crash hot, either: a busy day at work was made more difficult by the fact I had to figure out code for a direct mail thing I was writing. Do I look like an IT geek? It made me want to eat my own head. But, thankfully, I cajoled one of the front-end dev guys (am too scared and distinterested to ask what those rows and rows of shiny young lads actually do) to assist. And within five minutes he had it sorted. Play to your strengths, as I always say...

After work there was a walk with one of the Mt Vic Vixens and her woofer, and dinner for one (the Animator is out drinking). I wish I could say I was settling in for a night with the central heating, my beloved Uggs and a book; instead I am writing a Q&A document for a corporate client.

Cutting through today's dreich are these gorgeous blooms I got at the veggie market on Sunday. Not being in possession of the Maggie Barry gene, I have no idea what they are and lack the arsedness to find out. But they are beautiful and make me smile every time I enter the kitchen.