Up at first light, a spring in my step, until I recalled the list of Domestic Chores I had ahead of me.
After breaking my fast, it was to the kitchen, for the Penniless Oaves are returned from the Heathen Lands across the ocean, and are in sore need of proper bread. This takes a few days to prepare, so I flounce around in a cloud of flour making the necessary preparations.
It seems that the fabric of Crumbling Feanor Towers is in need of some attention. The Anbaric Installation (installed by Edison himself, I don't doubt) did expire with a great pop and wheeze some days ago, and is demanding attention. As if that were not inconvenience enough, the baroque pipework which feeds the kitchen faucet has decided to withhold water as it sees fit. This great inconvenience requires me to Do Something About It.
I have been able to make an unsatisfactory temporary repair to the Anbaric Installation, which will do for the time being. The recaltricant pipework is now Top Priority. I already have the replacement tap, an Italian contraption imported at great expense. Holding it aloft, it seems much like an octopus, with many flexible appendages dangling from it. Tis a straight like-for-like swap, only it involves contorting my unbendy self into the back of the cabinet under the sink with the edge digging into my back.
Giddy with success, I decide to leave it at that for the day, the Anbaric Installation can wait till the morrow. Time then for an agreeable luncheon, followed by an afternoon of fettling one of the Oaves' motor-vehicles in anticipation of their return.
And so to bed.