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Sunday, 21 December 2014

In which One breathes through One's ears...

Bonjour fellow travellers upon life's lovely highway.
One is in fine fettle and seasonal of spirit this divine dawning of another sensational day in Deepest Devon, at the Manor.
Biffed off to Barnstaple yesterday with the A of the F to acquire some festive frippery and a couple of vats of Pinot to accompany the pie of the sheep  herd that was threatening to be dished out for a TV supper.
We called in to present the LF (lovely family) with a seasonal token of our esteem in the shape of One of the A's shots of their rural gaff taken last Monday when a morning mist cloaked the grounds.
'Want to stay for supper?' Asked Mrs Lovely.
'A is cooking tonight' said One, and thus embarked upon the great shepherd's pie debate.
'That will be ready in half an hour tops,' announced the A of the F.
'Oooh no' chorused One and Mrs Lovely.
'You need to leave it simmering for at least an hour. Go out and ride your horse or something.'
The A gave us one of his 'looks' accompanied by a snort and folded his arms, which is a declaration of ensuing battle.
Upon our return to the Manor a slight adjustment was made in the cooking time, observed by One, but sadly not enough.
'I can't sleep' moaned the A, ' I've got terrible indigestion' says he necking a catering pack of Rennies.
'Huh' huffed One and spent the rest of the sleepless night listening to him groaning and bottom burping, whilst attempting to perfect the art of breathing through One's ears.

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