That in an act of callous disregard for your moral and ethical well being – she has fled the Raccoon coop for an entire week. Thoughtless of me, I know, but too late to let the dogs out, the scent is long gone.
Since the early hours of this morning, Ms Raccoon has been poking her bony finger into Mr G’s back and demanding to know whether ‘it is nearly time to go yet’…finally with an exasperated roar of ‘for God’s sake woman’ he agreed to rise and make the tea, put the rubbish out, make my breakfast, pack the van with three ton of medication, along with all his other morning duties, and drive me the 1000 odd kilometres – to Jersey! Naturally as soon as he was ready to leave, I fired up the computer and demanded silence whilst I penned this.
Jersey in January may seem an odd choice; I am actually looking forward to the grey skies, the 100 mile an hour winds, the long faces, the soggy fish and chips, and the mangled English as spoken by everyone doing a job which entails getting up in the morning and putting in a hard day’s work. I’ve thrown my wellie boots in the back of the van, the only thick jumper I now possess (still t-shirt weather here!) and a woolie hat to cover my bald pate…and we’ve gone.
Please keep the bar clean, and be polite to any strangers. Back on the 16th. Be there.