Clocks and Mothers

The clocks leapt forward overnight. We are now basking in British Summer Time instead of Greenwich Meantime. With a late night last night, we decided on a late start to the day. Well, it was virtually late since I got up at 8:00 BST (which was really 7:00 GMT), but I fooled myself into believing it was a lie-in. We lingered over breakfast and the news. 

I was just preparing to go out for a walk when Kim and Jon turned up. They had come to wish Diane a Happy Mothering Sunday and, while Jon and I kept Diane talking in the kitchen, Kim assembled a magical tea party in the orangery.

We settled down for a chat while drooling over the little cakes on the elaborate cake stand. We heard all about the proposed expansion of the business where Jon works and some of the projects they have on the go. They seem to be doing really well, and Jon is clearly loving it.

We migrated into the garden where we discussed the cleaning of the rill. Jon volunteered to borrow an industrial wet-and-dry vacuum from work and come along to help us drain the rill and clean it. It will certainly be a lot easier than using the hand pump we tried this week.

I went out for a walk when Kim and Jon had left and then settled down for some Kindle time alongside the preparation of the Sunday roast.

Zoe and Ellie dropped in to wish Nana a happy Mothering Sunday. Ellie was in a bit of a strop and was hiding in the footwell of the car. Grandpa went out to chat with her and calm her down. It didn't take long before she had returned to normal, and I sent her in to tell Nana and Mummy how much she loved them. Crisis averted.

I dozed off with my legs crossed. I was sitting in the kitchen. When I woke, I tried to stand up but hadn't realised my leg had gone to sleep. Ooops. I crashed to the floor in spectacular fashion and now feel as if I have bruised my hip and find it hard to walk upstairs. Stupid idiot.