A friend signed off an e-mail hoping I was 'keeping warm.'
Warm? It’s bloody tropical mate! 9C in the lounge this morning, and it got up to as much as 10C. My blood is so sodding thick now, that I have to shoot myself with a taser gun in the morning, just to get moving and up from bed.
Can’t wait for visitors. If you want chocolate biscuits, you have to smash them with a hammer and eat them in small parts, else you break your teeth.
I am going to break out into song in a minute, I am so looking forward to another night in the caravan. 'What now?' I always think.
Just conveniently the wind just started up again at about 6pm tonight, after a beautiful day, it’s now gale force again. I am banging on saucepan lids to dull out the noise, it’s just too scary. It’s a 50 metre dash every night from the house to the caravan and quite frankly anything could happen.
The wind cuts like a knife. This time I am going to try two log burners, one down each leg of my jeans to keep warm and see if that saves on the electricity bill of charging my gun.
Shall I let you know how my plan works?
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