There's really nothing quite like it, is there? I've been behaving in the manner of a 1950's housewife today, getting all the boring stuff out of the way in the morning so I could sit out on my trusty sunlounger and read my head off this afternoon.
There is something quite magical about sitting out in the sun, covered from head to toe in Factor 50 to avoid a repetition of Tuesday's sunburn with a huge floppy hat on my head, and singing along with the radio. I have a little technique for this - I turn on Heart FM on the Sky+ box, turn on the surround sound, open the sitting room window and prop one of the speakers on the windowsill. Instant audio entertainment, and they play songs that I can (and do) sing along to.
I dozed off and was woken by The Hubs who decided to skive off early from work, proffering a Brunch. This man knows me well... It's such an artificial icepop, with the gaudy pink crumbs and the sugar crunch, but it does hit the spot. I lay there trying to eat it before it melted, while watching him carrying out the first cutting of the grass. First the strimmer emerged from the shed and neatly edged the grass. Then the new mower came out (the little brother broke the old one... and never replaced it) and made short shrift of the ankle length grass, and finally his favourite toy - the garden vacuum which makes enough noise to raise the dead... and hopefully piss off our charming neighbours!
I think it's time to fire up the BBQ for dinner as a reward for his hard graft today. Chicken kebabs should keep him happy.