I think they and his parents-in-law might begin to get on each others’ nerves a little if it goes on for too long; son reckons that about a fortnight is the tolerance-threshold. And they can’t easily go out for day-trips if they don’t have a car, so they are a bit stuck in a village where they don’t know anyone. I just hope that whoever is fixing the car pulls out the finger pdq.
I shall try to go and visit later in the week and suggest moving the car-seats into my car for a day out somewhere, I think. It might help.
A bed that was created using a dug out bit where the digger was clearing the way for the terrace is half fillied in with good soil and I have planted it with 9 soup celery plants 3 romanescu assorted kale and about twenty onion plants
I am so chuffed to have a few veg growing outside my kitchen door
A Horse’s Neck I might manage. Or a Universal Settler.
You do know that one, don’t you? No?
1 of port to 1 of brandy. In practice, a tablespoonful of each.
It works.
Gawds. That’s a real shame and I’m sorry about it, Fishers.
Also sorry forra poorly Gus. And a tad concerned.
The gardening is admirable, Twellsy. I hope that you’ll enjoy the fruits of your labours.
That Poodle has somewhat disgraced herself. Returning from the walk, our neighbour decided to say hello and so overwhelmed was TP, that she lunged forward, almost taking Mr Bee off his feet. He fell against a wall and has cut three digits on his right hand. The bleeding was quite impressive (I think that he may have nicked a digital artery, but haven’t told him) so his hand has been bathed and dressed, he has had a cuppa and is now having a wee snoozette, with TP at his feet. Could have been worse.
Poor Mr Bee. TP didn’t mean any harm, being a Good Hound: she was overcome by sheer joie de vivre.
No need for concern here, Soo, honest. A bit mystified as to what brought it about. Not poisoned, because things would have been more spectacular. So I assume a bug of some kind.
Poodles are very powerful Dogs and Mr Bee is 9 stone, soaking wet (which he was, actually) but, usually, she has a bit more restraint. I suppose that she is a bit discombobulated at the change in routine.
Gusly gin, Carinthia? Well, if she’s not up for it I shouldn’t let it go to waste Hope you feel better, soon, Gus. For all the extra gin on offer.
Hope you feel better, soon, Gus. For all the extra gin on offer.