"The Met Office has issued a Yellow Warning for fog," I explained to the cat. "The bearded chap might not be able to come tonight." It's an attempt to let her down gently. I haven't the heart to tell her that James Robertson Justice is dead.
Sister Conchita Ignatia, late of the Sisters of the Aggressively Virginal, called round for her Christmas box. I was down for the count after two minutes. It took a good dose of the sal volatile before I was in any state to face the carol singers.
Have a cool Yule.
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3 comments:
Happy Christmas, Kev!! And thank you for the E-Card!!
I live in the middle of a field. Too muddy for carol singers and nuns....and me, to be honest.
We have been besieged with mizzle here for the last couple of days and I have been thoroughly drenched.
SXXX
Christmassy greetings from this outpost of Empire.
If we have any more squalls I may have to borrow some wellies from Scarlet. Cheers!
Railway Cuttings has been basking in subtropical splendour. Or at least it was until I finally noticed the cat had been playing with the thermostat.
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