Superman

Busy day, so a lazy shot of the ironing. This t-shirt of Conor's is usually pretty accurate: Mr B can turn his hand to most things. Something is only truly broken round here if Daddy can't fix it. But at the moment, it's mainly Mr B who's broken. With his left shoulder out of action, the right arm was injured today in an unwise sofa-lifting escapade. In then hauling the sofa up the stairs myself (with imaginative use of cardboard to cushion it from the ragged stone steps) I seem to have injured my hand. So now we have one good arm between us. And it's a bit tired from scaling a mountain of ironing.

I think this has been a rather hard week for Mr B - he's not the kind of guy to revel in the fact that he can't help and his wife has to schlep around doing all the heavy lifting. In fact I think he would much rather be lifting all the heavy stuff alone while I lay around painting my nails. (And I'm sure you know which I'd prefer - so there's something we can agree on.)

Today's minor annoyance was a call from our purchaser's 'companion' (oh, I could tell you a rum tale about her history of dalliances, which are all rather delightfully laid out in our contract). I didn't take the call, seeing as how I was having a lie-in when he rang, but he left a message confirming that his movers would be visiting today to check access and that he and the purchaser would be round tomorrow to talk to us. This would be their 12th or 13th visit. So we've said no. The movers turned up regardless, and were not allowed in. So I'm expecting to find our purchasers on the doorstep at some ungodly hour tomorrow. They will be on the receiving end of some new choice expressions I have been learning in French...

Tonight's shot could equally have been the rather delicious 1996 St Emilion Grand Cru that we 'tidied away' with our steak dinner. So not all bad.