Downstairs at 7.30 am leaving husband (second husband, aka The Wily One, aka Two), snoring under most of the duvet. He gave me a hefty kick in the night, so examine leg for bruise and am surprised (very surprised) not to find one. He bashed me in the back the other night whilst (presumably) asleep. Am wondering if these nocturnal attacks are result of uncontrollable spasms, or vindictive. Also like to record that snoring in night rose to crescendo, culminating in gargantuan snort that nearly propelled both of us out of bed. Mention this to Two, who replies that when I am lying on my back, it is like being next to someone breathing through a drain.
Draw curtains on another grey day, then Two appears, has cup of tea, and disappears into yard, (yard-not garden), to replenish bird-table. Has become very keen on birds recently and informs me he has struck up quite a rapport with a blackbird. He stands inside outhouse door, purses up lips and whistles in (he imagines) manner of blackbird. Bird then whistles back. Is also learning chaffinch and tit I believe. The Farmer Next Door is not happy about the amount of food Two is shovelling onto the bird table, as this will Encourage Rats. Two scoffs at this, and reassures me that there are only field-mice in evidence. I think field-mice are okay, I envisage them swinging endearingly on ears of corn.
There is as usual, no plan for today. This is retirement, you do not need a plan. We watch television and I suggest maybe a lunchtime G & T at the pub, which is a footfall away. This is declined by Two, who is now hunched over his lap-stop studying the horse racing form. This is his Chief Hobby. There were others, but I must Draw a Veil Over These for the time being.
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