Drained

After doing the drains I made another mess. This time with the Royal Mail's 'last dates for posting'.
But after storming around the kitchen in a fearful temper I soon got relaxed by watching some snooker. The horrible hairy Ronnie O'Sullivan is playing the horrible hairless Peter Ebdon. Still I watched it. And very good it was too, in fact they're still crashing balls about the baize but I need a break, just a little one so here I am with a nice cup of tea.

Before I forget, many thanks to Nof for reminding me that Carol Ann Duffy was on The South Bank Show. Ooodles of thankfulness Mike.
I sat entranced by the majesty of the Poet Laureate and wanted to scratch the eyes out of all who came near her. But I suppose, like many things in life, me meeting Miss Duffy ain't never gonna be. We're not all intended for greatness and even though we may feel that we're good enough to be up there, the starbright heavens can only hold but a few, therefore I am quite resigned to living in the shadows.

And now it's dark already so I'd better get back to the snooker and making dinner.
But at least the drains are clear.