And . . . relax

I am a self-fulfilling prophecy in that Bad Man said that the Scobi would end up blogging only one a week, and had even invented "doing a Scobi", and here I am doing just that.

Blogging has not been my highest priority over the last few weeks.  Let's see what the New Year brings.

In the meantime, both LO and I are ill; not chucking up or listless in bed ill, but ill enough to get to 8pm every night and wonder what the f### that day was all about.  We are at Brad and Angelina's this weekend, and we have even fleetingly considered whether we will be well enough to go.  I for one will be, but I have to say LO is suffering a tedious and persistent cough that is keeping her awake at night*, and sometimes me, and irritating her beyond belief, even beyond that of which I am capable.  She has an important event tonight, the leaving do of her boss and mentor.  Here's hoping she is able to get through that without making herself worse.  So, hopefully, we shall be travelling north to B&A for, amongst other things, a drumming workshop, something us lads are very much looking forward to.

Have a great weekend, speak next week.

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* Last night, to add insult to injury, we had what was presumably some drunken d##k-head calling us at zero hundred hours, otherwise known as midnight.  "Hello, hello" said I, to silence.  Nice.