More texts from the one exiled in Sheffield and complaints about hangovers. She’s only been there since Sunday and any ways she always told us she didn’t get such things. Still, it sounds like she’s getting in the swing of things. Life is tough though because she’s got no cutlery and has left the vital mayonnaise in our fridge, where it’s currently making friends with the salad cream. Pre last weekend both used to go their separate ways long before they had time to get properly acquainted.
The cutlery situation is almost ironic; we often had no cutlery at home because it was all up in the kid’s rooms, along with all the plates and bowls. Well we can’t be expected to remember to pack everything. It’s another personality building challenge for her to overcome and may involve a trip to Wilkos.
I run part of the way home along the R4 bus route. I do just over five miles before hopping on the bus and then another three after getting off in Bramcote. So, not a bad work out. The boys are pleased to see me and we walk up to meet L from the gym where she’s being aided and abetted by the Mormons, in book form. Which she surprisingly has found fascinating, in an appalled sort of way.
Doggo’s back at the vets again tomorrow. That’ll shock him, twice in three days. He’ll love the attention. Not. Typically just after he got back from his trip to the vets on Monday we found a small lump on his leg, which he’s making worse by licking and biting it. Best to get these things checked out. L suggests we mark the spot where it is by putting a dob of nail polish on his fur. Now that would really freak him out.
(Tuesday 20th September)
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