Hence vaticination “oracular prediction” (c. 1600).
Usual extensive research, natch.
Good Walkies - v. muddy, but we saw froglets and a red squirrel.
I hope that Carinthia’s results are favourable.
Soo xx
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Yes, they are, Soo
And flump
I have been back for about 40 minutes, & only just shifted from the sofa
Did some shopping after the appointment, & now have to put me feet up , as I am knackerated, but happy
Cinderella shall go to the Ball
Well
The Wedding
Liberates Pitcher & lies down
Carinthia.xx
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[pourity] [pourity] [pourity] [pourity][pourity]
a Refreshing Summat forra Carinthia.
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That’s Wonderful News! I am very happy for you.
Soo 
xx
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Hurrah!
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Whee! Yay! Let there be much rejoicing in the Cellar!
Gxxx
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And plenty of slammers.
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Them too. Good thinking.
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I am having 
.
For restorative purposes. Firstly, I caught sight of myself in a changing-room mirror. And as if that were not enough of a shaker, I later encountered a baby, who seemed to find me entertaining. Nice enough little fellow in his way, I suppose, but sticky and damp. And with no idea how to end a conversation.
Note to Gus: don’t try to pass by smiling at them - it only leads to Trouble.
On the credit side, I also encountered a greyhound of exceeding charm and elegance in the petstuff shop. Not sticky, and with faultless manners.
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I have had a swim in the Atlantic
It’s luvverly
The Bull sat in a cave
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Pore Gus! Look on the bright side, it may yet grow up to be the next Hawley Harvey Crippen or John R. Brinkley thanks to your benevolent influence.
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Dere Sparrer, you always know wot to say to cheer a Gus up. He was quite a chubby unit, so more Brinley than Crippen, I think.
Now while I deplore self-promotion on the whole, I think I should get a badge signifying my new position as
Cellar Bomb-Disposal Officer
My neighbour had a mysterious buzzing in her back-passage (shuttup) cupboard and was convinced either the smart meter or the boiler was about to blow the house up. Since ittiz a terraced house, that would have been rude, as well as unfortunate.
Having mentally discounted both the above possibilities, I fearlessly fossicked and traced the source of the problem to a toy electric screwdriver at the bottom of a bag of Play-doh and accessories. At least I think it was a toy electric screwdriver…
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Behind a waterfall, perchance?
Prophecy and divination being the themes du jour an’ that
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Not behind a waterfall sadly
More hiding from the sun lest his lily white legs in shorts be exposed
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Don’t you have to sit on a hide, rather than be the hide?
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I think sitting in one’s own skin on a hot summer’s day would work right enough. None of these things is a precise science
(4cc mouseblood perhaps excepted)
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Professionally I tend to regard the bomb-disposal types as Spoilsports. Brave spoilsports, but…
Congratulations, Gus. You may now have custody of the Cellar Tin Hat.
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That’s why I did it, tbh - any excuse to conceal this feckin’ awful haircut.
I am seriously contemplating a perm
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Have perforce forsworn all effective restoratives today - concert start in about five minutes. Relying on all of you to cross whatever digits appropriate to species—unfortunately I need all mine to ride the faders. To make matters worse,I’m up last, so have to wait another hour…
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Aaaaaargh about perms
Back to the 80s perms or old ladies ‘ cauliflower head perms
Not nice
Our Gus deserves better
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