Not so bad after all
The journey went pretty well, all things told. Heading over, we hit rain somewhere around Birmingham, and it steadily worsened as the last light leached out of the day. By the time we hit Bury St Edmunds, it was perhaps the heaviest downpour I've ever had the pleasure of driving through in the UK. Fortunately Bury's only a few short miles from my sister's house, and we got there in one piece, despite the attempts of several obviously suicidal drivers intent on doing ninety miles an hour when visibility was down to twenty feet at best.
It's become something of a tradition when visiting my sister to go to the cinema. Last time we saw King Kong, and this time we went en-masse to see Borat (I won't bother with the rest). If you've not seen it yet, I can only say wait until it comes on free telly. I was underwhelmed, perhaps because I was expecting something more along the lines of Chris Morris with Brass Eye and The Day Today - really taking the piss out of self-important people. Instead, Mr Baron-Cohen picked on a few easy targets and let them get away with far too much. I tittered at a couple of the jokes, but really it was better suited to my fifteen year old nephew. A wasted opportunity? Or am I just a boring old fogey?
Coming home, Chiswick didn't crap all over the dachshund, which was nice of him. But when loading the dogs into the back of the Batmobile, the Horse Doctor did manage to tread Dog Pooh into the special fitted seat cover that hangs between the back and front seat headrests. Fortunately this happened at my sister's, so we could clean it up before heading off. But it didn't half stink.
I forgot all about the damaged Arch right until I started to make the turn up the road home. It's a horrible feeling when you think you're almost there, and realise that there's miles still to go. Not helped by a full bladder after driving five hours non-stop, either. Note to self - must either stop occasionally, or not drink so much water to keep awake.
The Horse Doctor is away for most of the week on work-related travel, so I get to fend for myself. I had hoped to spend the whole of this week being slovenly and getting many thousands of words done on the novel, but due to a cock-up in finance and the ongoing sickness of a member of staff, for the next three days I will be mostly molesting sheep. Bah.
At least it pays money.
It's become something of a tradition when visiting my sister to go to the cinema. Last time we saw King Kong, and this time we went en-masse to see Borat (I won't bother with the rest). If you've not seen it yet, I can only say wait until it comes on free telly. I was underwhelmed, perhaps because I was expecting something more along the lines of Chris Morris with Brass Eye and The Day Today - really taking the piss out of self-important people. Instead, Mr Baron-Cohen picked on a few easy targets and let them get away with far too much. I tittered at a couple of the jokes, but really it was better suited to my fifteen year old nephew. A wasted opportunity? Or am I just a boring old fogey?
Coming home, Chiswick didn't crap all over the dachshund, which was nice of him. But when loading the dogs into the back of the Batmobile, the Horse Doctor did manage to tread Dog Pooh into the special fitted seat cover that hangs between the back and front seat headrests. Fortunately this happened at my sister's, so we could clean it up before heading off. But it didn't half stink.
I forgot all about the damaged Arch right until I started to make the turn up the road home. It's a horrible feeling when you think you're almost there, and realise that there's miles still to go. Not helped by a full bladder after driving five hours non-stop, either. Note to self - must either stop occasionally, or not drink so much water to keep awake.
The Horse Doctor is away for most of the week on work-related travel, so I get to fend for myself. I had hoped to spend the whole of this week being slovenly and getting many thousands of words done on the novel, but due to a cock-up in finance and the ongoing sickness of a member of staff, for the next three days I will be mostly molesting sheep. Bah.
At least it pays money.
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