Teenage Rampage? not if I can help it

And so to Super U to buy more butter after the cataclysmic cocker spaniels’ consumption of the entire contents in our kitchen. That nice lady decorator refuses publicly to admit there can be no other culprit, but I think the fact that I saw her find the, never before used, muzzle this morning tells its own story.  If judgement was down to me, then I would be wearing that small black mortar board worn by judges when passing the death sentence. You would think he would learn his lesson. I mean does the name Pavlov ring a bell?

Part of my writing work nowadays requires me to do a lot of research in the form of reading. I find this is best undertaken in a comfortable position,  and to this end I have incorporated the hammock into my office space. This enables me to take in some sunshine at the same time, and as a result I am well red.

Work has however been desultory today, suffering as I am the wrath of grapes yesterday. In addition I can feel the spirits begin to sink with the realisation that I must go back to London for a few days this week, the one consolation is the prospect of sampling some  Fullers London Pride. The problem with having teenage children is that they cannot wait until you are out of the house before inviting all their least savory friends around to drink whatever they can find, which means I am constantly trying to find new places in which to hide the alcohol.  The last time we were away for a couple of days, they were given absolute instructions forbidding any kind of party or gathering, and when we returned the house looked OK on the surface, but a few elementary mistakes had been made.  There was a mop and bucket in the kitchen, why? The Hoover was left out in the lounge, why? the recycling bin which was empty when we left was full of bottles. I am disappointed with them both.  When I was young and we had parties like that against the express demands of my parents, we were very careful to conceal all the evidence and ensure there was no suspicion.  When will my own children become clever enough to hide the evidence?  Actually it wouldn’t really work, that nice lady decorator would just need to set her gaze to stun and they would admit to anything…

My picture is taken from the garden today and is apparently a one day Lily. I knew someone called one day Lily in my youth but as she may be reading this I will have to keep the story to myself.

I have emailed the wingco that I shall be arriving this morning to retrieve some more logs from his copious store but as he emailed to say that he does not have my email address, I cannot be sure that he knows I am coming. Today I am going to have a Decafalon before the onslaught of London tomorrow.  A Decafalon as described in the Washington Post is the gruelling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you. However, some reports suggest that red wine can be good for you…