Another day, another scribble.

The car still stinks even though we’e tried several tricks including scrubbing with soap and covering it in baking soda.  I think the milk spilled in the gap beside the handbrake, i.e. my car is going to make me empty-retch every time I get into it for the next twelve months.

My body is pretty damn sore from all the exercise and yoga I did these past two days.  I love that feeling, every time I bend down to pick something, my booty screams in protest.  He he, if I could only keep this going longer than a few days I might actually start to grow some buns of steel.

I’m still super duper excited about my holiday in Portugal, in fact I’m going to go through my summer clothes after writing this to plan what to bring and there’s still two months before I leave…  Like I said, super duper excited.

Thing is, when you book yourself a proper holiday (as opposed to a trip to India to see your in-laws and spend time in the studio with the goldsmith) there’s something hugely indulgent and relaxing and exciting about it all.

You go with a different mind-set, you’re already prepared to unwind and take it slow and easy and enjoy doing nothing.

Not that I’ll be sitting on my (hopefully rock-hard) bum the entire time, there’ll be swimming and walking and I’ve already looked up yoga classes available in the area.

But all of it done at a slower gentler pace of life with loads of reading and writing (and maybe a sun-tan and good food).

Right, now it’s time to go through my summer clothes and see if there’s anything I need… I feel a shopping spree coming on -again! I’ll be living on bread and water for the whole holiday.

Ciao darlings!

Lizzie xxxx