Mince

Well, it's been an eventful few days Chez Nous.

In the space of a week or so His Nibs has managed to electrocute himself, I've attended interviews for two different jobs, delivered presentations at night time church meetings, planned a Fairtrade carnival [don't ask!!]and gone to collect half a hundredweight of poetry. All this whilst holding down the day job and maintaining some semblance of family life.

Speaking of family life, I forgot to mention the progress of The Mad Mother. The Saga of The Insurance Claim From Hell is nearing an end. Finally. Pacifying the mater has been no easy feat in the midst of the incidents mentioned earlier...

My brother who was housing The Mad Mother during the repairs has marked her departure with bunting, some alcohol and liberal sprinklings of 'Yee Haaa!!'. He aims to celebrate his new found flatmate-free status by bedding the first non geriatric female who happens his way. Why he felt the need to share this plan is unclear. I'm concentrating on not having that mental image in my head for any length of time. [Puppies and kittens... Think puppies and kittens...]

So all in all... my head, as they say hereabouts, is mince. Hence, this, the briefest of Witters.