One of those days

Monday. A wet-blanket day. A wrung-out-dish-rag day. A walk-in-the-woods drippy, damp, gloomy day.

In fact it's one of those days.

It's half past nine. There's a semi-bald, caked-in-blood juvenile cockerel cowering in the woodshed (I've mentioned before how nasty chickens can be). The wild boar have been at the garden again. Jakob! is lying panting in the doghouse, covered in wild-boar mud (read poo-poo) and licking off the yolks of nine (yes, NINE) stolen eggs. Mamma's also covered in mud, along with chicken poop, egg yolk and cockerel gore, and there's weasel poop on my walking boots.

Oh yes, and I have the first cold of the school year.

So.

Sod the washing up. I'm off to take a shower, throw everything in the laundry, and then retire to the sofa with a glass of hot Lemsip and the last two chapters of Wuthering Heights, which I hope will show me that it is possible to have worse days...