By British standards, it's hot out there -- 88º F (or 31º C) yesterday afternoon. Which doesn't sound that hot, at least not to an old Florida boy like me, but it definitely feels it. I guess the fact that none of us in the UK have air conditioning is part of the reason.
I didn't exert myself but I did run some errands -- including going to the post office twice. Which is ridiculous, since I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've used the post office in the last year. It was all due to bad planning on my part.
In the morning, I mailed Brobee to his new owner, a pal who recently lost a family member to Covid-19. I wrote a card telling her the whole story of how I rescued him, and fortunately this person is someone who will appreciate that tale. Hopefully he'll help provide some silly positivity at a terrible time.
And then, in the afternoon, my eBay auctions ended, and the old pharmaceutical bottles sold, and I had to get those in the mail. (Of course if I'd waited I could have mailed everything at once, but I forgot about the eBay thing.) So I packed them up and trudged back to the post office, and wound up spending £14 to mail bottles that Nigel in Wales paid me £6.85 for (including shipping).
I am the world's worst eBay seller. I seem to lose money on every transaction. Which is why I almost never bother with it. But in this case it allowed me to find a new home for those bottles, which was my overall goal.
My Bovril bottles didn't sell, but that's OK. I kind of like them.
I bought some fresh turbot for dinner from one of our local seafood restaurants that is doubling as a market until they can seat patrons again. I also bought some samphire, which goes so well with fish, and a fancy bottle of rosé Sancerre wine. We had a special light summer feast.
(Top photo: A pink car in Notting Hill, to go with my pink wine. Surely it belongs in that pink garage?)