Direct hit

In May I decided to sell the house.  Ok the garden is a jungle but the neighbours would like to buy it anyway, if buyers for the house don't want it.  Well who would?  Anyway the house was in pretty good condition.  Weeks went by and then the Estate Agent contacted to say that someone wants to view the house on Saturday (tomorrow now).  Between that call  and tomorrow what are the odds that I walk through the front door and the ceiling  falls on my head,  I mean what are the odds?  The house is 150 years old.  If it can wait that long why not just a few more weeks?  Anyway, apart from taking a direct hit on my head, I now have a gaping hole in the ceiling.  Has anyone tried to get a workman in France in August?  Well if you haven't, don't bother.  I told my sons but they seemed more concerned about the hole in the ceiling than about heavy lumps  of plaster falling on their mother's head.  I wonder if daughters are different.  I remember a woman telling me that her daughter had telephoned to tell her about her new boyfriend and went on to describe how he kissed her.  Yes well with sons - that's never going to happen.  I  only found out about one of my son's romances because I queried the number of telephone calls he had made to India.

After 6 months of not seeing my family I booked a ferry just in time  for the UK to threaten a 14 day quarantine for travellers from France.  Great.