In a Tudor Garden.

Wake at seven thirty and breakfast on porridge and tea, outside it's grey and cloudy, although better weather is forecast for later in the day. Wash, dress and drive to Cherry for nine fifteen and take the dogs on the Westwood. It's a cool morning the reading on my car says eleven degrees centigrade, but you can knock a few degrees off that due to the northerly wind. As we walk towards Black Mill we see old Di and her dog, Rocky and Pat from Wood Lane, with her black Labrador, Dora. Everyone is waiting for summer to return. We get back to Cherry for ten thirty, and after giving the dogs a treat, I set too and mow the lawns, this doesn't take too long so I also trim the southern hedges. Working steadily until one o'clock, I have my swimming gear with me, but perhaps today is too early, as I feel tired after gardening. Deciding to err on the side of caution, I head for home but first call in at the supermarket for fruit, salad, some vegetables and a French stick. When I get home, after unpacking the shopping, make a tossed salad to accompany the cold pork chop from Sunday and eat this with sliced, buttered French stick, washed down with a large glass of Chardonnay. After lunch I finish off my wine in the garden room and put an audio book of Hilary Mantel's "Wolf Hall", on my iPad. It's two years since I first heard it but it's well worth listening to twice. The rest of the afternoon and evening are spent in Tudor England, with breaks for dessert, tinned peaches and yogurt, and tea, French stick and honey. The spring cleaning and swimming postponed to see how I feel tomorrow.