Now that my wife has retired from her housekeeper's position in The Surrey Hills, we are moving to a small bungalow in a neighbouring town (which likes to call itself a village). Accordingly, over the coming weeks, we will be having to endure all the rigmarole associated with deciding what to keep and what to discard from items collected from over half a century of living in (usually) quite large dwellings.
In addition to that, there is some decorating to do and, at the same time, my green-fingered wife has already started to potter around the small garden whilst deciding how she would like it to develop over the next few years. So - ever the attentive husband - I engineered a visit to a garden centre, this afternoon, where she noticed a rather nicely proportioned, small, walk-in greenhouse; and - demonstrating how she is even more attentive than I am - she pointed out that it would make an ideal home for Trixie, my rather special three-wheeled touring scooter (see Categories - right).
Now, that's what I call devotion.
In addition to that, there is some decorating to do and, at the same time, my green-fingered wife has already started to potter around the small garden whilst deciding how she would like it to develop over the next few years. So - ever the attentive husband - I engineered a visit to a garden centre, this afternoon, where she noticed a rather nicely proportioned, small, walk-in greenhouse; and - demonstrating how she is even more attentive than I am - she pointed out that it would make an ideal home for Trixie, my rather special three-wheeled touring scooter (see Categories - right).
Now, that's what I call devotion.
