I'm starting to settle in to this not doing a 9-5 malarkey now, although it's taken me till today this week to haul my arse out of bed at any point before 11.30 (the weekend took it's toll on all of us, me included). This orning i made like the dutiful wotsit and did us breakfast in bed, thinking that M was going to get up and be all industrious...but typically it all went tits up as some bloke in Weston who shall remain nameless is a)useless at making phone calls and b) a rude waste of space that saw both M and me wasting part of the afternoon going to see him for what turned out to be no reason what so ever.

I have vowed that i will go and see my freind Bex tomorrow (if she's in) and her new arrival (a child, rather than a bus). Shje had a baby girl a couple of weeks ago and I have to continue my tradition of baking her a cake for each baby...not that the baby gets to eat it. When Jarad was born I made her a chcoclate cake with whisky buttercream in the middle - her in-laws scoffed the lot. That was back in the days when we both lived next door to the brothel (that was fun - can still recall the sound of inefficient bondage and whipping through the walls, complete with giggles)