We had a fantastic weekend. A bit of DIY was done, and some important jobs have been properly started, and in the round the back of each has been soundly broken.
The shelf above the fridge, hand made by yours truly, just needs a final coat of the-same-as-the-walls paint, and it is looking clean and proper, and will be a welcome resting place for the bountiful collection of LO's cookery books.
The pelmet is also well on the way to being completed to hide the gubbins above the downstairs toilet sliding door. Pelmet sounds a bit like something my granny would have, whereas this will, I believe, be chunky and in possession of nice clean lines, so at a stroke both functional in hiding said untidy gubbins, but also being fully in keeping with the rest of the extension, which is all about white, clean lines et-cetera-et-cetera. Indeed, a chap less modest than myself may even call it a triumph of form and function.
We also had a lovely night out on Saturday evening. We were to dinner with A&E, along with eight other guests. Much fun was had, and much good food and wine was consumed. There was even a menu, with two each of starter, main course and sweet. And there was a cheese board. And then, just as you thought it could not get any better, out came the mics and some fine karaoke was sung. Now, I know that karaoke is a bit of a Marmite thing, you either love it or hate it. It would not, for instance, be tolerated in any of this chap's clubs, except maybe Peppermint Hippopotamus, a local night club which has some reputation, most of it low.
All I will say on the subject is that trying to sing as loudly (and badly) as I did is not good for a chap's sore throat.
During the main course, the topic of conversation veered towards technology, and it was mentioned that I did a blog. This was met with a fair degree of interest, and the request for the URL to said blog. In my wine-sodden state, it was a bit hard to work out whether I should see this as a chance to increase my otherwise flagging readership, or whether in fact it was a chance to keep very quiet lest I become the butt of all subsequent jokes. I erred on the safe side and forgot all about it.
Sunday say some general catching up on being at home, with a fantastic game of Monopoly in the afternoon, a game where Scobi did, unfortunately, go bankrupt. Again, board games are not everyone's cup of tea, but as far as board games go, Monopoly is pretty much perfectly formed. The intricacies of property and cash flow and greed and negotiations makes it a compelling play, one that everyone enjoyed with gusto. It does also tend to bring out the worst in people's Machiavellian sides, with much gleeful rubbing of hands as a full set of properties was handed over as payment for landing on someone's hotel.
Monday morning is now upon us and I am feeling bad. The cold-like symptoms are now accompanied by an aching, not to the level of flu*, but certainly making me think twice about the joys of a day's work. I will see how it pans out, and reserve the right to gently die on the sofa if needed.
* Remembering the way to tell a cold from flu is to take the £20 test. You are told that a twenty pound note is outside your back door. If you cannot be bothered to get it, you have flu.