Water water everywhere, nor any ... you know the rest

A one-minute wonder of a blog, this, just to say thanks so much to those who’ve e-mailed.

Yes, Gloucestershire is bad: we are 10 minutes from Cheltenham who were meant to lose "amenities" after us (but greedily queue jumped) and 10 minutes from Tewkesbury (wellington-boot and dingy-led hogger of current news’ footage on TV) and are awaiting the loss of water and power any minute, conserving like mad (eeek, how our hair squeaks) and hoping that everyone else is doing likewise – though going by stories that fisticuffs have broken out in Tesco over bottles of water, maybe not.
Waitrose, earlier, was thoroughly more civilised, and where T10 and I bought a modest 15 litres, at a very modest £3.27, the bottles handed over by gorgeous male-type people in stripey shirt and Behaving Really Frightfully Well and wishing that all females were worthy recipients, aka: Celia Johnson. As did I, I fancied a little breathy moment amid the stress and latent trolley rage.

Really, it’s one thing a) being a rubbish summer and b) living in a *loody building site with c) a rampant mental bag of fur on 4 legs, but quite another being a dangerous rubbish summer in a *loody building site with ... Lolly (you guessed c)).

More later.