Leap year

So we have an extra day at the end of February every four years. Why? I really don’t understand the science. If anyone can explain it in terms of an apple and an orange, I might get it. Meantime, I am quite pleased it hasn’t been commercialised to any extent like Black Friday. You can propose if you are a woman, though. Thank God we only have the opportunity once every four years. Am sure I would have had many more marriages if I could have proposed any day of the year.

I did propose to Husbant – I caught him unaware kneeling in a lagoon in St Barts. It was a shallow lagoon and he can’t swim (without his fins). So there wasn’t too much danger. I think his immediate reply was “When were you thinking?” Luckily I had rehearsed this bit so I was able to say “In April next year after your footy season finishes and cricket season starts”. He was happy enough with the timing so we got married on Friday 13 April (cheap day). This year, it will be 12 (glorious) years. We’re off to Montpellier to soak up the vibes and eat some great food. Am excited already.

There seemed to be a rush of the kids’ mates proposing to their long-term girlfriends/boyfriends in the lead up to 29 February. Maybe there was a blind panic amongst them. Anyway, I hope oodles of happiness has been spread on this day. And every day would be good too.

Still a little weird with the big cat now 2ft under in the garden. Had to explain to the gardener that we had buried the cat. Didn’t want him to think I was taking over any active gardening. Will be buying a bush to plant this weekend. Perhaps with some sort of blue flower as Big Cat had the most gorgeous blue eyes.

Final random thing for today. My 92 year old mum has a piece of green soap in her downstairs bathroom that I think has been there since I left home in 1982. Ok, so maybe it’s a slight exaggeration. But it has definitely been there more than 5 years – I know this because it was there in COVID times. It is horrible. It has brown streaks. It doesn’t lather up. But I know my big brother and my dad probably used it, so I give it a little love. Shock horror, therefore, when I go to visit mum and head to the bathroom. There’s a brand new white soap in the sink! Still doesn’t lather but it was spanking new. Then I put two and two together – Mum had her friend Patrick round for a game or two of Scrabble. Ergo, no dirty brown/green soap on show. Still rocking it at 92. Soap to impress. Like that a lot. Went again a few days later and we are back on track with the old soap. Does soap fossilise? Is that a word? It was probably made in the war and built to last.

Happy Leap Year Day! Loved this sign. A bin for fat faces.