BACK IN THE PINK

I'm finding it hard to believe that February is already here. Where did January go?
Admittedly I spent a week of it in bed, battling the flu, and it took another week before
I felt nearly back to normal, but really - how's a girl supposed to get everything done when
time flies by so quickly?

Reflecting back on the dark days of feeling ill (I really hate being out of commission), for the first time in five years I missed the little cottage back in Oxfordshire. To be strictly accurate, however, the only thing I really missed was the central heating.

How I longed for that warm bathroom with its carpet, radiator and heated towel rail, instead
of our chilly shower room with its tiled floor and ominous damp patches on the walls. There's something about being poorly that makes you yearn for comfort and warmth - particularly when you have to crawl out from beneath the duvet to use the bathroom.

But the week's biggest woe came on a day when the rain was pouring down . . . again.
As I snuggled under the duvet feeling very sorry for myself and listening to the relentless pounding of rain on the roof, I detected an additional and all-too-familiar sound. The rain had found a new place to penetrate our leak-prone roof . . . and was plopping steadily onto the duvet.

With January and germs (I hope) now thankfully in the past, we've arrived at one of the most picturesque times of the year on Mallorca. From every window of the house we can see almond trees decked with delicate pink blossoms. Yes, finca life has taken on a much rosier hue.