Drunk legs and gin
Since around about teatime on Monday, I have had the pleasure of Mr Stuart's company to help while away the long boring hours sitting on dogs here in deepest darkest North-East Fife. Sadly he has a loyal fan club clamouring for more books, and a deadline looming, so he could only stay a couple of days, but we made the most of the available time. Fine food was consumed in alarming quantities, dogs were walked until their legs could take no more, and much fine toot was talked.
And somewhere along the line we managed to consume an entire litre bottle of Greenall's fine London Dry gin.
This might begin to explain my slightly fragile disposition right now, but it is only half of the story. The dawn chorus of noisy dogs has worsened since last I mentioned it, beginning earlier in the morning and increasing in volume to the point where it cannot be ignored. And for some reason the dogs don't seem to realise that, if they aren't put to bed until three in the morning (as was the case yesterday), then rising to greet the new morn just three hours later is not likely to be popular.
We were a bit more sensible last night, deciding that we had talked enough toot by half past one, but I was still not a particularly happy chappy when I had to drag my weary self out of bed a full hour before sunrise. This game could wear very thin soon. I think I might have to get some sedatives and put them in their evening meal.
Meantime, does anyone known where I can get a new liver?
And somewhere along the line we managed to consume an entire litre bottle of Greenall's fine London Dry gin.
This might begin to explain my slightly fragile disposition right now, but it is only half of the story. The dawn chorus of noisy dogs has worsened since last I mentioned it, beginning earlier in the morning and increasing in volume to the point where it cannot be ignored. And for some reason the dogs don't seem to realise that, if they aren't put to bed until three in the morning (as was the case yesterday), then rising to greet the new morn just three hours later is not likely to be popular.
We were a bit more sensible last night, deciding that we had talked enough toot by half past one, but I was still not a particularly happy chappy when I had to drag my weary self out of bed a full hour before sunrise. This game could wear very thin soon. I think I might have to get some sedatives and put them in their evening meal.
Meantime, does anyone known where I can get a new liver?
Comments
Although I suspect many of them are in the same state as your current set.