Prodigal liquor

Fish swim, birds fly
Daddies yell, mamas cry
Old men sit and think
I drink

Back to decorator land in Glasgow for me. Angus demurs.

We finish painting and start tidying. It's looking reasonably good. Alan is behind schedule with the window, but we have a plan! I'll need to replace the kitchen table and the desk chairs before the inventory on Tuesday.

Back home, Angus has spent the day loafing. Over tea, when I mention the need to replace the kitchen table, he remembers that he left our table up at his party site last week. Better late than never, we drive into the forestry and it's still there. We slide it into the car, on top of all the rubbish that I brought back from the flat.

Then it's time to spend money. I sit down with a shot of North Carolina bourbon (my bag returned magically from Atlanta with all three bottles of liquor intact) and buy, buy, buy.