Brrrrrrrrrr!

It was 5 degrees C in my bedroom when I woke this morning after a fitful night's sleep (probably because my head and face were so chilly). It doesn't sound so bad if you say 40 F, but it's still too cold for me. Mind you, Mr G says the temperature in his bedroom in the attic (where my laptop is permanently plugged in, the battery having died) was 27 degrees F. That's below freezing! It's a wonder (a pity?) he didn't go into hibernation!

What IS wrong with this house? Could it be something to do with the fact that he hand-made all the windows and they don't fit, and the curtains flap in the draught? I have GOT to move. Went to see a lovely house yesterday but unfortunately there was a building site next door where a block of flats and an office building are due to be constructed. As peace and quiet tie with warmth at the top of my wish list, I couldn't even consider it. Shame. Why didn't they refrain from putting it on the market until the building work was finished? Or maybe they can't stand the thought of living through months of heavy construction work, either.

Nothing ever goes simply in life, does it? I went to the the dental hygienist yesterday and while she was busy chipping away, a filling fell out. Oh dear, more expense. At least I have loads of editing work. Four jobs have piled up, my sister is visiting next week so she can see Fairport Convention with me, and the weekend after, I am going to stay with my friend in Liverpool and go to see Fishermen's Friends at the Philharmonic. That's the concert hall where we had all our school prizegivings, so it will bring back a memory or two. I don't think I have set foot in it for forty years! (Should I be admitting that? Oh, vanity, thou art my main failing as a human being! Apart from criticising Mr Grumpy, that is...)