Prodigality

The Apprentice son is home.  He looks rather hairy and has fleas.

Mr Smith didn't take my entire jam jar collection to the tip so I have something to start from for the next hoard.


I so want to paint today but it looks unlikely with motherly duties, Olympic games and Olympic ironing.  I will start with an enthusiastic swim to try and combat last night's enormous dinner.  Well, I needed it after all that tennis .... Well done Andy.  I was horrified at how mean I was to Federer.  Sorry Roger, it was just a wave of patriotism that overtook me.  I still love you and if you would like to pop round for a cup of consolatory tea I'd love to see you; you can show me your silver medal. We're not far from Wimbledon. You can chat to the dog whilst I get on with cleaning the kitchen.  Sorry, we're out of biscuits because I ate them all during your match.  Rebecca might pop round too as she's a bit down what with only getting a bronze and Frankie Boyle's being mean about her again.  You can't stay for long though because I have to get to Ikea to buy the Apprentice a wardrobe in the desperate hope that he might hang something in it rather than on the floor.