Strange Things on the Shelf
Twas the night before Glastonbury, and all through the house… people are gone. The cat lies mournfully with an entire bedroom to herself and my phone is alive with stressed messages from family, friends and colleagues. They are all preparing to dance in the fields of excess, with crowds, heatstroke, mud fever, cocktails, and far too much fun. It’s quiet and sensible here. What to do with all that ‘not going to Glastonbury’ free time? Step out and admire the flowers? No, better than that. Let’s clean the cupboard under the sink.
