A day of contrasts

Some aspects of Sunday remain more or less constant chez McIntosh - the slight rush to get to church in time for Mr PB to put the hymns on the hymn board before he has to play the voluntary; the grateful return to warm house and hot coffee afterwards. Often we lunch late, because we socialise with the coffee, but not today. Instead, we pulled ourselves together to get out, to hike briskly round the Bishop's Glen before it was dark, and that's when this photo was taken. The sun is setting beyond the hills, and the light is setting fire to the dark loch that used to be our water supply but is now a haven for anglers. No anglers today, though - just the sunset sky.

And then home, to start destroying our bedroom. Sounds dramatic, because that's how it felt at the start. We took down the curtains, weighed them (for the dry cleaners), bagged them and took them out to the car; we took down pictures and removed bookcases and books, cleared the mantlepiece and did a great deal of vacuuming. We took photos of where the pictures hung, and pulled out the nails they'd hung on. 

Tomorrow we hope the builder will phone and tell us when he's coming. I'm hoping it's Tuesday, to get the messy bit done. Then we'll try to arrange a decorator, though I think it's going to be after the holidays. And for those that are interested, I think I'm going with fellow-blipper annejohn's suggestion of a pale version of the paint already there, on plain lining-paper if they can't match the stuff that's on the other walls. 

Now I'm coughing madly with all the stour and desperate for my dinner. And a drink. It is, after all, Gaudete Sunday ...