Since then it's been raining almost non-stop and our front garden's like a sponge so taking the caravan away has not been an appealing prospect. However, this week, for the first time in ages, the weather forecast is set fair, so we've booked an ad hoc few days away.
I'm trying really hard NOT to feel guilty. I'm going to take my laptop and some workboxes and will
So this afternoon we've been cleaning and packing the 'van which necessitated getting into the shed up the garden to retrieve porch awning, camping chairs, windbreak, Small Dog's chair, BBQ etc etc etc.
As designated 'retriever' I had just managed to get right into the back of the shed and was hoiking stuff out when out of the corner of my eye I saw something moving.
Fast.
It was so fast I hardly had time to react before something brown and furry scuttled out of a box and nearly ran right across my sandal-clad bare feet.
My initial thought was HUGE TARANTULA until reason belatedly kicked in and I realised that spiders don't have tails.
However, in the nanoseconds between my initial thought, and reason kicking in I simultaneously leapt UP and BACKWARDS, all the while screaming like a girl.
Obviously, the small furry, scuttling thing was immeasurably more scared of me than I was of it and it scurried to the back of the shed and disappeared. By that time my heart had stopped fibrillating of its own accord and I was already feeling foolish for such an overreaction.
Small Dog, who had been mooching about outside during the fracas, popped her head round the door to see what was occurring. Her being a boney fido ratting terrior and all, I thought she might come to my aid and intercept any renegade rodents, but she declined my invitation to investigate, made her excuses and left.
I've had to have a glass of something reviving to steady my nerves........
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