Phew, wasn’t that exhausting, thrilling, nail biting and oh so….polite.
I am rather partial to a spot of tennis, so the Wimbledon fortnight is a couple of weeks where I know I will be entertained and manage a stitch project or two. This year it was welcoming to see and hear the crowds getting behind the players, the commentators banter bouncing as artistically as the balls across the court. Thanks to the multitude of BBC options I had plenty to choose from. Merrily from late morn til late evening I could get behind the under dog, admire the resilience of the known and marvel at the prowess of the new blood breaking through.
After the happenings of Sunday night, I also delighted in the behaviour of the crowd. No slurs, no drunken stupidity, no offensive language, no brawling, no scrapping, no abuse. What is it about the mob mentality of football fans that turns the sensible into unabashed vile thugs …. but that’s a while other subject.
While watching the tennis, I was able to complete a round cat blanket and even tackled a new stitch style for the edging.
When Wimbledon concludes I am often left feeling flat. Not as flat as when BFF flies home but adrift, so a mini project commission was tackled Monday. I had been flicking through some photos, looking for something specific, when one of my carers asked “What was that?” Cat Butt Coasters I replied. I had made some for a friend in the USA.
She was so amused that I said I would make some for her. Diving into my stash I searched for a suitable shade of butt to centre the grey and black cat coloured yarn,
The other distraction …. #NotMyCat, who enters for breakfast, leaves for a constitutional, then returns to commandeer my lap to snooze upon, my hands to fuss him and brush him until my next carer arrives.
Round these parts we’ve entered sticky season, when the heat and humidity rises, helped by menopausal hot flashes, equals sticky body parts. Not something many have to deal with but when trying to slide ones naked butt to and fro, it does matter. Even cotton sheets latch to clammy skin and nights are spent throwing off and retrieving the light weight duvet.
It wasn’t always this way….was it…..Or am I getting properly into ‘old’ (don’t answer that).