Sound the trumpets ....to celebrate ...

I am quite mad - I am sitting at the kitchen table, as per usual, having had a brilliant Saturday - the rain is lashing down, it is only 7.30 pm but the house is dark as night and I am listening to Purcell - "Come ye sons of art, an Ode for the birthday of Queen Anne" I lurve Purcell, I am waving my glass of wine in the air, and just loving the music. I was born in the wrong century - I adore 17th and 18th century music and one of the best things about living on one's own is that I have carte blanche to listen to what I bloody well like, instead of being exhorted to "turn that racket off"! The ex stretched to Enya, and not much else.

I do not know what has happened to summer, the gloom has descended like a funereal pall, and it is like winter. When I took the dogs out mid-afternoon I caught a warm, sunny spell, but 20 minutes into our walk, the heavens opened.

The rain lashed down, big angry pregnant drops of water, and as one, Bill, Maud and I hared for shelter under a hedge, which thankfully had high overhanging branches. Bill shivered as the huge drops splattered rhrough the leaves, and gave me baleful glances as he tried to avoid them. Maud has a thicker coat so she was fine, but I only had a T-shirt on, and was getting cold and wet. As quickly as it began, it stopped and we ran for home.

Before it began to rain, the sky looked extraordinary. Patches of dark grey, with billowing white clouds, small blue areas, and for all the world looking like an ominous William Blake illustration. I felt as if a monster was going to jump out of the sky. Once it began to rain, the sky suddenly become a uniform steel grey, almost the colour of Billy's coat. Very odd.

Purcell is still going strong - it is too loud for the dogs, who keep looking reproachfully at me. Bad luck, I am loving it.

A good friend came by for brunch this morning on her way back to Cumbria after performing Granny duties in London and Kent, we had about three hours of non-stop natter, and it was lovely to see her. We met first 34 years ago, when we all left London for Kent, with our babies in tow. Much water has passed under the bridge in the ensuing years. She left me with a bottle of Moet pink champagne - when shall I drink it, with whom should I share it? When I do broach it, I shall think of her and drink a toast to our enduring friendship.

As a finale, may I thank everyone for your lovely comments and birthday wishes - my birthday was all I could have wished for, apparently everyone was very anxious to celebrate my 65th, perhaps a little too eager! Anyway - I have had fun this week, my house looks like a florist shop, I have spent quality time with my girls, heard from old friends, and feel better about myself than I hsve done for a long time. I salute you all for helping me to recover.