Ironing Wine

This was my day.

Washing on, ironing on, downstairs to answer door, downstairs to answer door again, downstairs to throw out rubbish, not a moment to myself and my knees require peace and rest!  It's a good job I'm not one to complain.

Anyway, while planning my repast a knock on the door, well the next door actually.  My downstairs neighbour invited herself and her man up for a Christmas drink.  "See you in 30 minutes."

So, after a manic cleaning session, hiding the drying washing, pretending all else was normal, and ensuring glasses were washed, they arrived.  A bottle of wine and a card, and an hour or two of conversation which I enjoyed thoroughly.  We accidentally opened another bottle, and had they not got to go we may have accidentally opened another.  Altogether a very good evening chatting with neighbours I rarely see.  I was pleased with it all, I hope they were also.  Of course I gave them a bottle for their Christmas also!     

Unfortunately, while happy, I am losing interest in scribbling for some reason, the words dart about the screen.  Maybe I ought to do this happy stuff more often?  But that might lose my 'miserable old git' prize.  The man next door is well on the way to claiming it already.'