see what I mean. And I should be out getting sweaty in the garden. Yesterday a neighbour popped over with a few spare plants and we did some weeding. Yes, it had gotten away from me again. It was fun, if hard work and more than a touch shaming but they were very nice about the whole thing. You know it's gotten away from you when you start uncovering undiscovered Incan temples under the weeds. Oh dear. Well, at least I'd made a start before (she says, sheepishly).
Yep, the whole I have a note from the doctor is cutting no ice with nobody, sigh.
Other news, am fed up with work in ways I dare not describe. Came home late on Friday, had a few stiff ones then watched a weird ass episode of Bonanza during tea (we were hoping for aliens, werewolves or cannibals but got ghosts, we knew it was something because the theramin was working overtime) and snoozed for most of George Gently but they annoyed me by having stuff from 1967 in 1964. Harumph. (Sorry, made a study of the 60s when I got into The Saint in my teens, being an anal little sod, and I still know the difference twixt 67 and 64).
Anyway, why am I typing when Simon Templar is on telly???
