Were you born to resist....

Sometimes, the weekends are for pleasure. Purely pleasure.

Today, i rose at 6.15, and dragged Boy from his pit; shoved some breakfast down his throat, and a cool bag of pasta and wraps into his sports bag; drove ten minutes along the road, and dropped him for his lift to Perth.

I then spent 20 minutes or so browsing the quiet early morning town, looking for likely blips, but apart from a wee Ginger Rabbit which I missed because I nearly hit a rock trying to grab my camera, nothing. So I came home, made myself a coffee, and sat down and watched George Clooney for 2 hours.

Then as my beloved got up, I went back to bed, and fell into a gorgeous deep sleep. I squealed at him at 12 when I woke, dismayed at the absence of a cup of coffee and breakfast. He said he had called up about an hour before and I had been dead to the world.

Eventually I dragged myself forth into the world, and together we headed for the weekly shop. I also entertained myself with a wee dawdle round the town, sniffing pou pourrit, and the Charity shops for any bargains.

When we came home we were delighted to discover it hadn't rained for the two hour period we had been gone, and our 6 loads of washing were in fact dry. I quickly thru our bedsheets in the machine, got them hung our, and then cut the grass. Back and Front!

Then I poured myself a glass of beer shandy. Great for a thirst, and now, I'm going to plonk myself on the couch, glass in hand, Curry before me, and slob.

All night!