Well, in my case if I did then I'd be manhandling Father, which is never a good thing. Mother relayed yesterday that the surveyor had given his professional opinion and warned that if Father continued with his excessive burrowing in the Spring then the house would be rendered unsafe in a matter of months. This is obviously worrying news and something we'd like to avoid, despite disliking our noisy neighbours intensely at times. I've lived in this homely semi-detached property since I was eight years old and I don't really want to be forced out by the stupidity of an old man who's clearly as mad as a box of frogs - or should that be an entity of earthworms?
I'm at home this weekend as Wilf's alloted the whole weekend to the unenviable task of writing staff reports, completing his Census return and sorting out his small change(?); I'm hoping the latter isn't a euphamism for something seedier than first imagined?
As for me, well I rose at 6am, carried out a series of pilates stretches, jogged around the block, tidied the dining room and showered so I'm raring to go. Laziness is abhorrent to me, my hands quite dance around from lack of occupation at times. I am due to visit cousin Eleanor tonight as she's cheered up a fair bit and is hosting an Ann Summers party to swell her coffers, so to speak. I don't know a great deal about this Ann Summers person, so I'll Google her. I think it's a make up/clothing company or something?
*Stop Press* Oh my goodness? Really? How can I possibly sit around with a group of women and discuss sexual contraptions all night? This is too much to bear!
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