Of course the pontoon supporting the crane and equipment for rebuilding the sea wall at Dawlish (not far from our house) has legs – otherwise it would sit on the sand when the tide goes out. Next time I’ll use my better camera to take more detailed shots of it.

Shall I tell you something a bit ironic?

Well, some months ago, Chris and I attended a meeting set up by Network Rail to discuss the rebuilding of the wall with residents of the terraces; many of the attendees voiced their concern that if the footpath on the sea wall were to be rebuilt to the level of the railway line (for greater strength against the storms in future) people walking on the wall would be able to “rubber-neck” and impinge on the privacy they were formerly accustomed to before the storms, when the footpath ran along the bottom of that section of wall. Now, like Network Rail, some of us thought that the sea wall would be a whole lot more resistant to the storms if the the footpath were to be brought up to the height of the line, thus adding to the thickness of the wall and becoming a bigger buffer against the waves.

We didn’t stay for the entirety of the meeting. We don’t know how that problem was settled. We do know (as Chris pointed out to me with a chuckle) that the pontoon on legs stands directly opposite the houses on Riviera Terrace and Sea Lawn Terrace and the workforce on the pontoon will be able to look right in – no need for rubber necks, ordinary necks will do.

Late this afternoon three spiders met up on the newly painted (many times) railings at our house.

“Be that you, Ted?” called out the astute spider clinging on to the spindle painted in a paler aqua blue. (Well, they were born and bred in Dawlish so they have quite strong Devonshire accents!)

“That all depends…” answered Ted warily.

“On what?” Cyril asked angrily.

“On who you be,” Ted laughed because now he recognised Cyril from his tone (apparently, around here he is known as a grumpy character). “I knows yer, don’t ee worry, but I wouldn’ a known yer if twaddn’t fer yer grizzles. Why yer looks like the post yer standin’ on!”

“And I wouldn’t a known you if weren’t for your ugly face and yer big hairy legs!”

“Mary likes ’em – don’t ee Mary?” Ted looked over at his docile wife.

“Course I do, you big lummox,” said Mary lovingly.

“Well what do yer think of all this painting lark?,” continued Cyril, “I were almost fergetting the great kerfuffle of last year and ‘aving to grow out the Forget-me-not Blue on my back, and was just starting to think about findin’ a nice lady friend to share my life with, when it started happening all over again…”

“I do knows what yer means. First the brush off with a dustpan and brush – Mary and me were luckier ‘an some, we were sent swinging into a nice geranium – and then, when we thinks that it were safe to come home and rebuild, we each gets hit with a gert big dollop of Barley Blue,” said Ted.

“But ‘ee has a bit o’ Beach Blue on yer too, iffen I know my colours aright,” clever Cyril observed before Ted had a chance go on and on.

“That be true. There certainly be another colour on me – I be Two-Tone-Ted – jus’ not from Teddington. But I bain’t be sure what colour it be… I heard mention of Sea Grass blue but I don’t care,” said Ted.

“Yer don’t care?” Cyril was incredulous.

“No I don’t!”

“Yer don’t care? Why ever not?”

“Mary likes it,” Ted smiled at Mary whose face blushed unseen under a splodge of Barley Blue.

“Now how on Earth can she like it?” Cyril was exasperated.

“Mary says it hides my greys and I look younger!”

Well, I just hope that all the surviving spiders are as happy as Ted and Mary. I like to think so.

Who doesn’t want lovely soft full lips?  Now you can forget ideas about conventional and costly lip enhancement procedures – no need for nerve-withering Botox injections, invasive cow udder insertions or chemical peels – because a couple of nights ago I discovered the answer to achieving the perfect big lip look for free (and no nasty trout pout). Mind you, no pain, no gain, as they say (for extremely good reason in this instance)…

Well, I was starving after a long day of painting; and of going up and down the outside steps, and bending myself double over banister rails, and crouching, leaning and stretching my limbs beyond their normal bounds. I was looking forward to a small piece of fillet steak, as recommended by Dr. Dukan. First I fried some onion and mushrooms in a little olive oil and, when they were almost cooked, I flash-fried the steak in the same pan; a minute or two later I took out the steak and made a sauce by adding milk and cream into the softened onion rings and mushroom slices. Having poured the delicious mushroom sauce over the steak, I was about to put the pan in the kitchen sink when I noticed some tasty remnants of the sauce still clinging to the sides of the pan… You can guess what happened next.

The wooden spoon, only partially covered in sauce, appeared deceptively innocuous and tempting. You may be relieved to learn that the molten mushroom mixture never reached the inside of my mouth – by chance it hit my top lip first and stayed for some moments while, stupefied with pain and shock, I considered the best course of action.

It was quite difficult to eat my steak dinner whist my top lip let off steam in a glass of cold water. In fact, I had rather lost my appetite for anything hot. Dr. Dukan would have been pleased. My attention turned quickly to dessert – a nice raspberry “Smoothie” (on a stick) from the freezer (only 82 calories Dr. Dukan). Now that was just what the doctor ordered. I let the frozen red lolly thaw on my swollen hot lips.

“Goodness,” said Chris beaming from ear to ear, “you look like Barbara Cartland!” (Perhaps you can remember the famous authoress, especially as an old lady, because whenever she appeared on talk-shows she wore pink chiffon dresses and lots of make-up, including lashings of pink lipstick.)

I giggled at the thought.

“Go and look at yourself in the mirror,” added Chris.

I did so and burst out laughing. The red dye from the raspberry “Smoothie” not only looked like bright pink lipstick, but it also went well over my natural lip line and even had a cupid’s bow, as if I had painted it like that intentionally (as some ladies do, except that mine made my lip seem twice the size).

“No not exactly Barbara Cartland,” Chris was in deep thought as he stood by the bathroom door frame, “more like… oh, the actress – what’s her name?”

Stood before the bathroom mirror, instantly I knew the name he was searching for. Chris thought of it at the same moment.

“Baby Jane!” we said in unison. (We meant Bette Davis playing Baby Jane from the old thriller, “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?)

And no, I didn’t take any photo’s of my big hot lips – the photographs below are of Bette Davis, not me!