Welcome yet again to another blog site. Yes – that’s right, I moved. I couldn’t get a hit counter on the other one and Chris said that wouldn’t be a problem with Blogger. I’m still not convinced I’ve got my fan back you see – I could be talking to myself here – Yep, nothing unusual there then. I did check the details on the tripod account this time to see if I could link – and I can. Chris very kindly pointed out that most people leave a link on their old site when they move, so that their fans or fan in my case, know were they’ve gone. Full of good advice isn’t he. He’s just showing off because fourteen people read to his blog.

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Hooray, I’ve got my car back and the garage didn’t charge for any of the retests – probably because it belongs to the father of one of our neighbours – which means I am no longer a pedestrian relying on others to ferry me around. I can now drive all the way up the road to get the papers – yes, OK, it is a little bit lazy – but mornings are always a rush. Get up – shower - get ready for work. Dry and straighten hair. Breakfast for everyone, pack lunch for Himself, feed and water animals. Collect papers from shop, start paper round. First stop is nearly opposite the shop, Doug who has problems walking. Then back down the road to John, who lives a few doors away and finally my Dad. Take dogs for a run down the field, looking very fetching in my pair of green wellies, and then put spaniels in the outside run till we get back from work. I leave them to run in and out in the summer, but if I did that now I’d come home to a mud bath. Upstairs to write my blog and then off to work. Yes, OK, I suppose I could walk and get the papers, but take this morning for instance, it was raining - I’ve have got wet – I don’t have a brolly. I gave up on those years ago - I keep losing the bloody things. I now rely on a coat with a hood and the car.

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Himself pointed out that there was a very funny smell upstairs – not a nice smell – and it seemed to be coming from Matthews’s room. My sense of smell is awful; I blame Tracy’s flatulence for this – it’s a defence mechanism. No - I couldn’t smell anything. I stopped tidying up my kids rooms years ago – I know when I’m on to a loser. It’s their room and I respect their privacy – they can clean it themselves. I just venue in once a week to change the bedding. They learnt the hard way about their washing, usually when they wanted to wear something and it was lying on the floor still dirty. Not my problem that one. It’s a bit easier since Steve moved out. There is only one room to ignore now. Matthew puts his washing in the washing basket, but as he will change at least twice a day, most of its still clean.

Anyway, feeling brave I put on my mountain climbing gear, attached a rope around my waist, tried the other end to the door handle and venue in. Not before giving Himself strict instructions to pull me back out if I wasn’t back in half an hour. Once my eyes had accustomed themselves to the dark – I managed to find the curtains and open them. Big mistake. It looked better in the dark. I set to work trying to hunt down the smell. I’ve draw up a short list of possible causes.

1. 17 worn socks under the bed – no wonder I keep having to buy socks.
2. 2 mugs contents unknown – but grey and hairy in appearance
3. 2 apple cores – shrivelled
4. 1Banana skin – black and slimy
5. 1 plate – covered in mould.
6. 1 bin – full to the brim, contents making a break for it across the floor.

I called up second son on his mobile and demanded his help in removing offending articles – which in all fairness he did. He couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about; it was quite tidy in there as far as he was concerned.