Holiday here today, with a brown and loaded sky. We had the thrill of trying to find shoes to fit over splints.
Mol has a friend round; their idea of getting lunch while we were out was scarfing five bags of crisps and most of a giant bag of doritos. We were back just in time to save the party rings.
Mol has a new look on her face these days. A blocked teen look I'm feeling less than comfortable with. I've just realised it reminds me of the blank, unresponsive eyes of an unspayed tom at the bottom of your garden. The love hasn't a clue she's wearing it, the way the tom hasn't a clue he's just a spraying bastard.
I will drink St John's Wort tea and make fish pie to politely summon a metaphoric sun.
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