Flying ant day!
It turns out we have a HUGE ant nest in the garden, though it's presumably now several hundred flying ants smaller than it was this morning as they emerged en masse apparently in the moments between letting the dog out into the garden and turning to come back in again, and I watched actual clouds of them take to the skies. So that’s fun.
The big news of the day (other than Titch going to an actual holiday activity: tennis camp in the square, along with half his school mates. Win!) is that I finally submitted the application for probate for dad. Get the bloomin flags out! Actually don’t, save that for tomorrow when I’ve posted off the will and death certificate and it’s officially Off My Desk, at least until the next bit.
I’ve still got a dose of what I’m calling the Covidwobbles, they've been lingering for a few days now.
Covidwobbles: a generalised air of bluefunk, deep frump and vague un-ease.
I’m trying to counter them by reintroducing exercise and cutting out the comfort eating but that’s proving something of an ‘iterative process’ (by which I mean I caved as I was cooking tea and scarfed the remainder of a bar of chocolate from a recipe the other day, and just demolished not one but a two properly buttery crumpets before evacuating the kitchen and heading to the relative food desert of bed).
Hopefully tomorrow will be a bit better again, and the next day better still...
(Those crumpets were bloody lovely).