Chapter 175. In a leather apron, sweating over a barrel.

The chat this week was more than a little bit wide of err ANY mark.

I can of course offer up reasons why this came to pass. To start with Ant had just got back from a couple of days dashing around London and was train-lagged. I (on the other hand) was slowly poaching in my top floor music room, lime-poor but fortified by tequila, red bull and a large slice of orange, which had rendered me unable to be serious.

Excuses aside what it amounts to is a lot of giggling, some interjecting, quite a dollop of talking-over and some flagrant repetition. As far as this week is concerned discipline is just a word that begins with 'd'.

Anyway I have regulated myself since Wednesday and can confirm that (after a quick google search) it may have been the frost that had an effect on my plums, especially considering the abundance of blossom earlier in the year. I am not sure about my cherries as yet.

Love by the sleepy lagoon, and love always at home.

h

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