Google+ Followers

Follow by Email

Friday, 22 July 2016

In which One is baking...

There is nothing quite as delicious as a day off work when the sun is shining.  Even when One feels like absolute shite.

Another chest infection and a forty Woodbine a day cough.

One has taken to biffing down the bowling club to observe the Admiral and his old codger chums hurling their balls across the green, but just at an important juncture, One starts hacking lumps of lung into the mix and it puts the blighters off.

So today One is staying in the Underground Lair and baking a Hummingbird Cake.

One might even spend a moment or two in the garden as One is not likely to be disturbed by One's odd neighbours: they are holidaying at present.

One isn't even safe in the sanctity of One's sitting room from the little heads appearing over the fence.  Why, only the other day One was sitting, partially clad, putting me face on in preparation for a day's arse wiping, when they bobbed up intent on engaging One in a scintillating discussion on whereabouts on the body one might get shingles.

Lucky they didn't get an eyeful of the Admiral sitting in his bathchair wearing nothing but an incontinence pant and a fiendish grimace.

No comments: