The beds are on the move! (?)

The old boiler, or what remains of it, is sitting, propped up on a fork lift truck, on the downstairs garden terrace where the ever whistling plumber left it on New Years Eve. He left with a cheery wave, a cheque (hence the cheery wave), and a vague promise to come again on Monday to pick it up. Naturally, because the old heating systems innards are covered in oil and grease ( and heaven alone knows what else) this graveyard of pipes and valves has become the sole source of interest for the two boyz. Forget long walks in the country or a saunter through the fields chasing squirrels they want to be down below exploring the redundant plumbing and its muzzle matting viscous coatings. Why is it that the more you say 'no', the more attractive something becomes? In some respects dogs are more like humans than we care to recognize.

Life is quickly returning to normal after the holidays. The Christmas tree was taken down yesterday. We were going to leave it up until the 6th but the ever thickening carpet of fallen pine needles was getting to the stage where remedial action was required. In the end we opened the windows at the end of the hall and threw it out onto the lane below - that way the pine needles were confined to one area of the house. What's the betting we'll still be finding them in all sorts of weird and wonderful places in August?

The saga of the beds continues. They are being loaded onto a van (again?) for their long journey from Hertfordshire south. We have gone beyond speaking to the manager of the store and have now had the owners cast iron guarantee that they will be with us hell or high water tomorrow lunchtime. For those of you who live in the south of England you can take it for granted that the movement of our beds will entail the snow storm of the decade, the gridlock of the century, and the interruption of all channel ferry crossings for at least a week.