The longest day

Well, my dears, the longest day has come and gone all too swiftly. One has, however, made good use of the light before it begins to fade by a few minutes each day, and will continue to do so for as long as possible. The painting has thus come on in leaps and bounds, the second and third coats applied each evening after one had returned from one's professional toil, and the male guardian was away toiling. It is a most beguiling colour of many shades, dependent on the time of day and light. One is really rather pleased with it. White, flat sheen woodwork will complement it in a way that is becoming to this old house and some, yet to be found, material destined for the window coverings. Why it really is quite exciting my dears.

The male guardian and I have spent a relaxing morning before he was once more duty bound to his professional toil. Once he had departed, the winter bedding was collected from one's niece in the dry cleaning establishment she runs most efficiently in the small local town and is now airing on the line, absorbing the sunshine. The cashmere, inherited from one's late mother, has been hand washed and is lain upon a flat surface to dry outside, in preparation for careful storage before the winter months arrive. The linen is flapping in the breeze and windows are wide. I am also assisting a colleague in drying rose petals for her impending wedding, such is the plentiful supply from ones garden, and am duly keeping an eye on their progress as I enjoy a restorative cup of tea before once more donning one's overalls to return to the task of painting woodwork. As busy as a bee, dear souls, for there is much to do and enjoy in this life and I am making the most of the fine weather whilst one can for 'tis, after all, good old Blighty.