  You would think,  given that I only live next door,  my mother would have been able to give me a little advance notice that my new patio door was being fitted today -
 it's not a lot to ask,  surely.  But no -  the first I heard of it was when Jack came in my bedroom at 7. 15 this morning demanding the key.  I had to fly around the house with the Dyson,  picking up half a rainforest of Sunday paper,  empty wine bottles,  clothing etc.  I haven't done anything all weekend and the place was a tip.  I've just shut the kitchen door and hoped the glaziers don't get thirsty or need the loo -  they would have to battle through half-
emptied weekend bags,  shopping bags (  I found a fantastic underwear sale yesterday,  it was a bit extravagant of me,  especially as I don't get paid until tomorrow,  but a girl can never have enough foundation garments,  and corsets are definitely a fashion direction that suits my Jessica Rabbit- prone figure)  and shoes to get to my en- suite,  and then I dread to think what they might find.  I had hoped to be going home to new French doors,
 but the miserable Loss Adjuster would only cough up for one replacement panel -  still it will be nice to have the scent of the garden wafting in of an evening -  shame it also allows Darius to bring in ever larger mammals -  many a night has been spent chasing him and a mole/ baby rabbit/ albatross around the lounge -  which reminds me -  I must pick up cat food on the way home.
