Phew! Back on t'internet but only briefly. I am having to balance on one leg with the laptop perched on the window ledge and my dongle hanging out the window and it's only a matter of time before the police squat team arrive.
As advised by the lovely Guardian writers we have cancelled our three weeks in Provence and Florence, sent the dog's au-pairs back to Lithuania and are bravely "staycationing" out the recession in the United Kingdom.
We are in the enormous County of Lincolnshire, nestling on the coastal dunes between those pearls of Eastern delight Mabel Thorpe and Donna Nook. It is a Nature Reserve, or "Sports Facility" as Oz prefers, and although tiny this holiday cottage ticks a lot of our boxes:
Dog Walks from the Door - Tick
Enclosed Garden with 6ft fence and no miniscule Lily sized gaps - Tick
Away from Main Roads - Tick
Spar Shop within 1.5 miles - Tick
20 minutes from agreeable Market Towns with pub lunches - tick
Small parasitic creature on Lily's back - Oz ...I mean Tick.
Boxes that aren't ticked are:
Wi-fi accessUp and Coming but still cheap gastro pub within 5 minutes walk
Provision of Washing Machine and Dishwasher
No Neighbouring holiday makers with dogs inviting regular barking contests
Sea nearer than 3 miles across boggy and munition laden marsh
The double edged sword of having to wash up by hand is that I have sliced my index finger on a carving knife and so have sub-contracted this onerous task to Mrs Rine. As my middle finger is also still badly strained from my recent near death railway experience I am rendered incapable of celebrating Chris Evan's well deserved takeover of the Breakfast Show from Togmeister Wogan. Evans or Moyles - you really do spoil us Mr Thompson!