Hello Again Dear Readers, and what kind of a Sunday have you had?
First of all apologies for missing the deadline; in mitigation I have been on drugs. I'm in quite a huge and spikey amount of back pain and the vast amount of co-codamols rattling against my ribs sound like a frenetic pair of castanets or, to use one of my more colourful expressions, are very reminiscent of a pair of skeletons indulging in an inordinately noisy and robust bout of genitalic stimulation via phallengetic motion whilst standing in a biscuit tin; anyhow, which ever euphemism you prefer, the upshot is that instead of writing this I was in a De Quincy like state waiting for Nobel Anne to kiss me good night and allow me at last to leave this Vale of Tears behind . . . but fear not, I have returned and so here is the story so far . . .
As I mentioned before I spent my day south of the border down Ruabon way and very nice it was too; P looked very well after her op and, following a helping of Dr T's hummus (with a garlic aroma that could level Tacoma - Thank you Frankie Z!) I set about providing emergency care to P's ailing PC . . . I won't mention the 298 infections I found but have persuaded her that subscribing to Norton is . . . well, let's say there are better ways to waste money - and ones that are more fun too!
The weather on the way there was terrible and I feared the usual; whenever I visit Wales, Scotland or the Lake District I am immediately met by a deluge; however I was pleasantly surprised today which only added to the charm of the day. A brief call to the Old Duchess confirmed that indeed the Wigwam was wilting under weight of rain so I counted myself quite fortunate.
And when, upon my return, Sal and I went out for our m+m (meander and micturition - we both do the former; I leave the latter to her!) our own normally sweet Asland was strutting, blustering and gushing like a priapic youth - the level near the Environment Agency measuring station was 9 (feet?) and lapping at the red 1 - whatever that means . . . probably that the proposed new housing down river - which they are chosing to build on the flood plain - is presumably destined to end up even further downstream!
And so what does the coming week afford us - other than the opportunity to be better personages and more positive people than before? I have a luncheon with the Duchess as usual tomorrow, plus the option of being a real swot and getting some smaller pieces of work in before deadline - an innovation that I fear will never really catch on - Wednesday is college, Thursday I have a rather fine evening to look forward to with a lecture about the Victorian Way of Death, and their attitude to it - something which fascinates me . . . death really was a part of life then and that is something that we have lost these days - to our cost! Hence my work in bereavement counselling . . . hmmm! Anyhow, that's taking place at the Museum of Wigan Life and as a bonus not only is information provided but also tea and cake - yum!
And so, with that thought lingering at the corner of my mouth like the forgotten remnant of a Sally Lunn I shall wish you a very good night indeed, packed to the gills with sweet dreams and positively bursting with those things that make you smile wherever you are and whenever it is . . .
'til next time
Be Seeing You !