A spanking
So Lorraine off to the gym this morning, I set myself to sorting out my computer issues. Amazingly, the connection simply worked this morning after I reinstalled my account on my phone, and by restarting my computer. Perhaps earlier this month if I had just waited a day the thing would have repaired itself rather than wasting a day on helplines. I then FaceTimed mum who had seen the movie about Laurel and Hardy this week, but found it a bit sad, and I did some ironing while listening to a horror story by Robert Aickman till Lorraine bounced back from the gym, pleased she had gone.
In the afternoon, off for an impromptu pub lunch with Rosie and Innis at The Foragers. Some really nice food there, and a nice chat with Innis about books, and Rosie cheery and Pippi being fussed by lots of people.
I glanced at my iPhone to see the latest on Chelsea's must win match with Manchester City. Turns out that Chelsea were enduring their worst defeat since 1991, a six nil spanking. Anton texting me, crowing about Manchester United who after a couple of years in the doldrums are coincidentally on the up now.
Home and Lorraine watched Call the Midwife (or Haul the Afterbirth as I think of it). I received a poetry rejection, the second in two days, decisions I waited for for 5 and 4 months respectively. I usually take rejections in my stride, but stupidly I let this one really gall me. I should try to focus on the one little yes I had this week in a forest of noes.
To bed early, having tried unsuccessfully to talk to Toby. Lorraine reading a bit more of The Box of Delights, before we sent to sleep.
Below Manchester City celebrate the overthrow of everything good and noble in football.
In the afternoon, off for an impromptu pub lunch with Rosie and Innis at The Foragers. Some really nice food there, and a nice chat with Innis about books, and Rosie cheery and Pippi being fussed by lots of people.
I glanced at my iPhone to see the latest on Chelsea's must win match with Manchester City. Turns out that Chelsea were enduring their worst defeat since 1991, a six nil spanking. Anton texting me, crowing about Manchester United who after a couple of years in the doldrums are coincidentally on the up now.
Home and Lorraine watched Call the Midwife (or Haul the Afterbirth as I think of it). I received a poetry rejection, the second in two days, decisions I waited for for 5 and 4 months respectively. I usually take rejections in my stride, but stupidly I let this one really gall me. I should try to focus on the one little yes I had this week in a forest of noes.
To bed early, having tried unsuccessfully to talk to Toby. Lorraine reading a bit more of The Box of Delights, before we sent to sleep.
Below Manchester City celebrate the overthrow of everything good and noble in football.
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