We abandoned the plan to visit Sandringham. It was too windy and too grey, with the promise of storm Brian arriving later. I do feel a degree of irritation with the Met Office seven day forecast, which last Sunday showed the middle and latter part of the week as being dry and intermittently bright. If they'd managed to get it right three to five days ahead perhaps we'd have gone on Monday or Tuesday, when at least it wasn't windy. Hey ho. Maybe next year.
I gave up on ideas of Outside, and spent the day tucked up in front of the new electric bar fire with the pile of old gardening magazines. The Systems Administrator spent the morning fighting the Thirty Years War on the sofa before venturing out to do some more shredding. Mr Fidget plonked himself down in the top deck of my filing tray, which cracked even more. In lifting it off so that it could be reinforced one of the metal legs detached itself and disappeared under a cupboard. I scraped around hopefully with a ruler but unearthed nothing except a lot of fluff and some chewed cardboard. Mr Fluffy was disappointed to find that his filing tray had gone and tried to sit on the contents of the lower deck instead, putting muddy footprints over the booklet outlining Eon's terms and conditions. Mr Cool slunk off into the approaching storm. Our Ginger was happy, though, now that the Aga is back up to full heat.
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