Just finished watching a murder, Midsomer variety, with the new Barnaby investigating. We are adjusting, but any murder is a good murder, as they say.
Before that we tucked into chicken porridge, which had been preceded in the late afternoon by tea and two big cobs of corn.
And who said life was dull, eh? The worlds keep turning and all this is highly, mightily satisfying, for those who know, for those who know.
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