I'm not here. I'm in Harrogate. With James.
I just thought I'd share a few things about him with you today, things such as ... some days I come downstairs to find him making tea, looking like this:
It's a long story. It involves an elastic waistband and a joking suggestion from me that he put it on. Which he did. Only he then he kept it on. And forgot about it.
There are other days, like yesterday, where the scent of fumes were still lingering in our house despite having made him put his diesel soaked jeans through the washing machine once already. Jeans which had been soaked after he'd used a pump at the garage which failed to cut off, which he didn't notice until it was too late. Then, there he was amid a fuel spill to rival anything from BP.
And then ... there are days like today ....
... where he's taken the day off work to take me to Harrogate; to Art From the Heart; to another of Dina Wakely's super inspiring art journaling classes, while he amuses himself around the town.
Ridiculous kung-fu poses aside, he's a good one. I know this.
And I'm a lucky girl.
I'll be luckier still when we get rid of that smell of diesel from the landing ... anyone got the number of a good clean-up crew?