For the cat-lovers out there...
They seem to both get out of the wrong side of the basket some days, and even sharing a room is unbearable. A bit like humans, except much more cute.
In other news, I attended nephew Nick's wedding yesterday (to the beautiful Ria) in Leicester, and what a splendid affair it was. Most of the people there I hadn't seen for many years and it was great to catch up. Strangely, I had a dream afterwards, possibly due to too much beer, involving going backwards in a car and the brakes not working. Sort of poetic.
I did watch the Royal Wedding, and I'm not a royalist, and I enjoyed it, and I hate everything they stand for, and I'd like to know please, how can I engineer an introduction to the other sister? Mind you, both sisters could do with a good pan of scouse. And how unattractive is William? Is it just me? Mind you, I never fancied his mother. She had a hoop nose and no hips in my royal opinion.
What else? Oh, not much. I seem to be spending a lot of time in (or near) Newcastle these days, working on that damned tunnel. Night shfts as well. I feel like the notion of proper circadian rhythms is a thing of the past and I'm now able to "Micro-nap" whenever I get the chance. That, for the benefit of any budding politicians, is how to put a good spin on my embarrassing habit of nodding off at far too regular intervals.
While we're on rhythms (see what I did there?) the informal arrangement we have for getting together to play music in the Art Lounge is edging towards being a proper official session. We lose our guitarist (ciao Marco, enjoy Italy) after the next gig, for the rest of the summer so any reasonable pluckers can apply here. You just need to know your chords and keys, and be able to understand a broad and softly spoken Northern Irish accent, as spoken by the lovely Ursula, our leader and fiddle player extraordinaire. There is a favoured candidate, and I'll not name names, but his initials are Robert Hindley. oops. Yes yes I know, Dave can do it but he's always on bleeding holiday init.
While we're on leaders, I see they shot Bin Laden. As daughter Alex has ably pointed out, they may well have created a martyr and caused yet more fervour among the world's more pea-brained and gullible types. We wait and we hope not.
More soon, and hello summer.
They seem to both get out of the wrong side of the basket some days, and even sharing a room is unbearable. A bit like humans, except much more cute.
In other news, I attended nephew Nick's wedding yesterday (to the beautiful Ria) in Leicester, and what a splendid affair it was. Most of the people there I hadn't seen for many years and it was great to catch up. Strangely, I had a dream afterwards, possibly due to too much beer, involving going backwards in a car and the brakes not working. Sort of poetic.
I did watch the Royal Wedding, and I'm not a royalist, and I enjoyed it, and I hate everything they stand for, and I'd like to know please, how can I engineer an introduction to the other sister? Mind you, both sisters could do with a good pan of scouse. And how unattractive is William? Is it just me? Mind you, I never fancied his mother. She had a hoop nose and no hips in my royal opinion.
What else? Oh, not much. I seem to be spending a lot of time in (or near) Newcastle these days, working on that damned tunnel. Night shfts as well. I feel like the notion of proper circadian rhythms is a thing of the past and I'm now able to "Micro-nap" whenever I get the chance. That, for the benefit of any budding politicians, is how to put a good spin on my embarrassing habit of nodding off at far too regular intervals.
While we're on rhythms (see what I did there?) the informal arrangement we have for getting together to play music in the Art Lounge is edging towards being a proper official session. We lose our guitarist (ciao Marco, enjoy Italy) after the next gig, for the rest of the summer so any reasonable pluckers can apply here. You just need to know your chords and keys, and be able to understand a broad and softly spoken Northern Irish accent, as spoken by the lovely Ursula, our leader and fiddle player extraordinaire. There is a favoured candidate, and I'll not name names, but his initials are Robert Hindley. oops. Yes yes I know, Dave can do it but he's always on bleeding holiday init.
While we're on leaders, I see they shot Bin Laden. As daughter Alex has ably pointed out, they may well have created a martyr and caused yet more fervour among the world's more pea-brained and gullible types. We wait and we hope not.
More soon, and hello summer.
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