Red faced

St Louis

Mostly the time change between here and the UK doesn't bother us at all, as long as I remember what time the kids get home from school back home and their parents get home from work I can call at the right time of day.

We don't watch a lot of TV but if we do, we are dined and cleared up by 9pm, 8pm in the UK and can catch the evening's viewing.

Last night we watched a wonderful promenade concert on BBC4 with John Eliot Gardiner, the Monteverdi choir and the English baroque soloists - a beautiful performance of Bach's St John Passion. Slightly too early to go to bed afterwards, we flipped through the channels and found a re-showing of Pretty Woman. We hadn't watched it for ages and decided to indulge (it's one we don't have on DVD). So at 1.30 we finally wandered off to bed.

Figaro asked to be let out as usual at 6.30 and I dozed for a while before deciding to leave Jon in bed asleep and wandered down to the kitchen for a cuppa.

I grabbed some jeans and a top as I wanted to nip outside and, even though we aren't overlooked, I don't like to wander round the garden in my nightie. I threw on the jeans and top in the kitchen as I waited for the kettle to boil and then opened the shutters to let Misty in for a snack.

I spotted one of the neighbour's cats and shooed it away (actually, I swore at it), and turned back indoors to make my tea.

As I looked up again, a man appeared at the back door, from the direction of the garden (?). He pointed to the electricity meter and mouthed to me throught the window that he had just read it.

When did he pass the kitchen? I'm worried it might have been as I was getting dressed.

Which would account for the funny look on his face!