Gee but it’s great to be back home…

Is there any better feeling than when finally released from familial duties we are able to slob out in comfort with a tincture or two? The day is ours to waste in central heated comfort while through the Swedish triple glazing, in the frozen wilderness of Perthshire, songbirds starve to death.

So much for the fantasy. In reality, The House defies the normal laws of thermodynamics, that, or it was built over a Pictish burial site. Bloody useless Picts. We normally have to moon about the place wearing all our tweeds and fleeces, until about lunchtime when the temperature rises enough for independent movement. You couldn’t keep lizards, that’s for sure. And Swedish triple glazing? Hand crafted by well-motivated professional artisans? Don’t make me laugh! Scottish single more like, slapped together in a warehouse in Greenock by a group of young offenders fighting for the nail gun.

Therefore, yesterday, upon our return, we tore into the party food and drinks only in an effort to bump up our calorific intake. It’s a survival issue here you know.
Shortbread, food of kings, and the buffet cocktail sausage roll, our saviour.
Walkers shortbread is the best by far, although Marks and Sparks’ luxury butter variety pushes it hard.
Anyway, that is my excuse, and sticking to it I am.

Oh! Corrections and whatnot.
Eponymous, not apocryphal ! I knew it was not right, and I looked at for a while at the time, but couldn’t think. This is what senility will be like.

Updates may follow.