Apparently there’s snow in Sheffield, so Daughter will be pleased. Not.
There’s none here of course and it’s good to see that for once the schools haven’t been closed and the buses cancelled as a precaution.
L is working from home again, mixing Christmas puddings, writing Christmas cards etc etc. Presumably kicking balls too? Apparently not, as they are both asleep. Typical. I would be kicking balls if I was there. They always feel as if they have to exercise me.
But were they really both asleep? Apparently ‘my’ dog has stolen some bread off the worktop. Oh dear. MD appears to have double-crossed L by pretending to be asleep in his basket. He's smart that one. No wonder he left Doggo locked in the spare room yesterday, just in case someone had left any bread lying around. He obviously didn't want to share.
She’ll have to dock this morning's misdemeanour from his morning toast allowance.
We venture to Beechdale for squash tonight. I’ve not played there for at least ten years. What a tip, now I can see why. Obviously it affects my game.
Afterwards we go for a drink in one of our locals, one that I don’t usually go in. In fact the last time I was in here was last century. The place is your typical sort of estate pub but one that’s still looking for an estate to belong to as it’s marooned on the roundabout on Nottingham’s ring road.
It’s very local free tonight; in fact it’s almost totally people free. We go in, fully expecting to be confronted with the dreaded John Smiths smooth but instead we are faced with three real ales, one of which is Hobgoblin on top form. It also isn’t ruined by a barmaid who is pulling for the first time but is keen. We have to assist her. She also can’t work the till and for a moment it looks like we could be on for a freebie and she for the sack, until a barman turns up to show her how.
(Thursday 15th December)