Urf Urf

My Dear Princess & Dear Fellows,

I've had a very quiet day today. I feel much better but have developed a cough that sounds like an entire colony of seals has taken residence in my throat.

It doesn't help when I laugh. Which is why it is especially cruel, Princess, that your blip made me rock back and forth with tears coming from my eyes earlier today.

"What is it?" asked Cazza. 

I waved my hand at her.

"Are you okay?" she persisted.

"URF URF URF URF URF URF URF URF URF URF URF..." I responded. I probably carried on like this for about another ten minutes.

So that was one incident. The second was when we tried watching an Aussie show called "True Story With Hamish & Andy".

The concept behind this show is brilliant. You know how we've all got "pub stories"? Those stories we save to tell people in pubs because they are rude or funny or gross or embarrassing or all of the above?

Well, in the show, Hamish and Andy ask a regular person for their best pub story and then they get actors to act it out. Tonight's story involved a man who was sitting outside at a barbecue in his stubby shorts when someone threw a tennis ball wildly that hit him in the nuts.

As if that weren't bad enough, it was followed by a Yorkshire Terrier chasing the ball which missed its primary target, but found the bloke's meat & two veg and LOCKED ON.

It turns out the dog had a condition where, if it opened it's jaws too wide, it got "locked" in position which is how the bloke ended up being driven in the back of a Ute to the hospital, with a Yorkie attached.

Needless to say, "URF URF URF URF URF URF URF..."

I'm exhausted. Must watch nothing but documentaries about The Great Depression tomorrow.

S.