Since we last spoke, my Husband and I took ourselves out of the rat race for a week, and sat on the sofa looking at one another for 72 hours before popping off for an overnight mini-moon in a rather splendid four star hotel housed within a medieval building right on the river in 30 acres of glorious Oxfordshire countryside. Bliss. We even had a meal in the restaurant, together, at a table, and spoke to one another. Wonders will never ceace.

Then last Saturday, whilst enjoying The Mother’s hospitality and minted lamp chump chops, and neither being drunk or chased by demons, I fell up her garden path, twisted, sprained and hurted my ankle. Like really really. Have been relying on a crutch (that was CRUTCH) ever since with a big old swollen hurty ligament, and am now exhausted by the whole debacle.

It has scuppered my week’s cycle schedule, and a lovely trip I had planned for this weekend to see The Sister, The Brother in Law and The Niece. However, it is some compensation that instead, we are going to the flix this afternoon (bless Summer Hours!) to watch G-Force which I am reliably informed is about secret agent guinea pigs. Exactly.

See you next week chaps, have a good one.