Twice today I have taken clothes out of the dirty washing basket and said, 'Oh they'll do,' before putting them on.
In my defence I am aware that I am doing this but also that it is verging perilously close to putting me in the 'smelly old woman' category. But I was cleaning. On the first occasion at least. And the second time I was only coming into contact with an estate agent.
Oh yes, Uncle has decided he wants to leave his lovely retirement apartment and buy a bungalow instead. So we've been doing a bit of house hunting with him.
It's not the apartment as such that he is unhappy with; rather it's the management. There is only one lift (he's on the second floor) and it keeps breaking down. Management's answer is that it's the fault of his new mobility scooter. And also, they say, they've had complaints about the noise it makes - a beeping - when it goes backwards. As he only uses it occasionally to go out at lunchtime and, as far as I am aware, he prefers to drive forwards, this seems rather petty. And if a lift in a retirement complex can't cope with an old person's aid, which, incidentally, weighs less than I do, that is bad planning on their part I would have thought. Plus they use every opportunity to charge him for one added extra or another.
One of the places we've arranged a viewing for him is on the sea front at Mumbles. An ideal location for him as he says, 'I could have lunch in the Mermaid (the nearby restaurant) every day.'
So we could have a busy few months ahead.