Drive in to work today. Work is still hectic. Email is quiet. L says she’s having problems with her email but she does manage to pass on the news that Daughter and Doggo are gardening. In Daughter's own words ‘faffing about with her vegetables and alien strawberries’. Not sure what she means by that but I don’t think its good news. The garden was already a bit like a bad day at the Glastonbury Festival when I went out there this morning. So it’s worrying how much mud I’ll find when I get home and how much will have been traipsed inside the house on feet and paws.
Talking of Daughter she wants to go see Mindless Self Indulgence, which for the uninitiated are an industrial, jungle, rock, punk, techno band (delete as applicable) from New York. Probably not quite my thing but I’ll give it go. An open mind and all that.
My plot with multiple fantasy league teams has been rumbled and all my duplicate teams (as they call them) have been evicted.
Get home and the mud isn’t too bad. All the same I edge and fence in Daughter’s vegetable patch just to stop it spreading as it is threatening to do and to keep Doggo and the football of it. Then I cut the grass, which exercises Doggo nicely.
L is off running, or rather not running, in Derby with a friend. They opt to walk instead. I think perhaps my run with her yesterday has ruined her run tonight. Doggo and I walk to the bus stop to meet her.
While I blog, L watches some Harry Potter on DVD with Daughter. Then she takes Harry, in book form, to bed. I'm getting concerned that they have a thing going or perhaps it’s not Harry, perhaps it's someone else, perhaps it’s Arthur Weasley?
When I come to bed later, L manoeuvres me to the middle of the bed and straddles me. It's more Anna Karenina than Harry Potter, but then again I haven't read the last book. I try and resist... very briefly... if at all.
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