The mad whirl of errands begins

Made the mistake of saying that I needed to go to the Scottish and Irish store, which is pretty much the sole purveyor of vastly overpriced British chocolate in the city. Why a mistake? Because Mrs. Ottawacker, who was otherwise engaged with work, sent me on a trail of errands to the west end of the city. Among there was a pick up at her naturopath (in the car park of which I saw this interesting door). I’m not a huge fan of British food, but if there is one thing they know how to do well, it is chocolate.
 
Then there was the madness of shopping, running round to Di Salvo’s to pick the screen-printing on one of Ottawacker Jr.’s Christmas presents (a goalie shirt), preparing dinner for Ottawacker Jr. (he had a training session in the evening so had to eat early), and other sundry jobs. Endless.