The local pond is on the dog walk route. It's a small pool of often murky water, home to a community of frogs (we've performed a number of rescues when they've strayed onto the cycle path), a moorhen or two and lately five drakes. Duck families haven't fared too well here over the last few years (a combination of dry conditions and naughty boys) so we were pleasantly surprised one evening when these youngsters, six in total, and their mother suddenly came into view.
After a quick scan of the fridge and larder one afternoon, an unplanned visit to the supermarket was on the cards if dinner was to be something other than brown rice with tinned tomatoes. All went well (I made a list, remembered to take it with me and even checked it over before unloading the trolley at the checkout) until halfway home, when my little car unexpectedly ground to a halt in the middle of a dual carriageway. I managed to restart it (well, eventually, and with an impressive queue behind) and somehow made it home (I don't use a mobile phone so there wasn't much chance of summoning help), with little in the way of acceleration, an alarmingly loud grinding noise and a warning light flashing on the dashboard.
The garage was fully booked for repairs so the car has been sitting on the drive for a week, awaiting its diagnosis which is scheduled for tomorrow, and I've been hoofing it here, there and everywhere. (It took me an hour and a half to buy a bag of coffee beans yesterday. Walking back from the shop, an elderly man on a mobility scooter challenged me to race him. He won.)
But doesn't your mister also have a car, I hear you ask. Well, yes, he does. Or at least he did until he spectacularly crashed it the day after mine took sick (fortunately no casualties apart from the poor car). Didn't see that one coming. Clearly, neither did the mister.
Contrary to predictions, the latest additions to the garden borders are settling in well, especially given the poor soil, Boo's clumsy clown feet and a cat with a penchant for rolling (the other cat is too preoccupied waging territory war with the new feline on the block). Some of the plants are already flowering, providing some welcome splashes of colour amongst all the brown.
There's a small but decent monthly farmers market in the big park down the road which on Sunday expanded into a food festival. In the spirit of 'if you don't support it, it'll probably vanish', we decided to have a nosey. Along with the world and his wife. We arrived at midday and the place was unusually heaving. Many stalls had already sold out, with just a scattering of crumbs hinting at baked delights missed. At least it was an opportunity for a spot of people and dog watching.
The littlest paid a visit at the weekend, lured, no doubt, by the promise of festival food (he might be just nine months old but that boy can pack away a surprising amount of food). There was the predictable poking about under the rug but all the standing up took us somewhat unawares .
Ever get the feeling you're being watched?