Well, we are celebrating the slightly-removed-because-of-Geoffrey-Chaucer archaic right of fertility.
Obviously, the romantic overtones will be subdued on my part today, as the cat decided she’d howl at our door for food at 6 in the morning, I’ll have sat over eight hours in a boring office, an hour and a half on a train, will have a job interview this evening before rushing back home to take my lovely wife to the restaurant, to pay three-times-the-price-of-yesterday food. By the time we’re home I’ll probably be dead on my feet, so my wife’s pleas for baby making practice will fall on deaf ears until the weekend.
Such is life eh?
Other than the happy event of me being able to spend an hour with the woman I married, a friend has returned from his jaunt in the midlands with lots of bits of Triumph. I hope to pick them up this weekend. We’ve had sun all week, so by the time I get the car bolted together, we should have some monsoon weather…
