Is My Girl Cultured Or What?

There is some invisible force holding me down in bed this morning. For once, it’s neither of the dogs, thankfully, and it’s also not L, regretfully. It seems to have something to do with the quantity of beer and food that I consumed last night. So basically, I bottled out of running to work and got the bus instead. I would normally, under such circumstances, have run home instead but its squash tonight and I need to be fresh for my defeat.

As L is dying to discuss ‘Notes From an Exhibition’ with me, she lets me prise her audio-book filled ipod off her. I get quite a few chapters in on the way to work and it’s a lot more interesting than reading the Metro.

So no wailing to the Doves this morning. L of course has to go one better. Not only does she run to work but she does it listening to an eclectic mix of
Mantovani’s ‘Elizabethan Serenade’ and ‘Sunday Night Just Keeps On Rolling’ by the experimental Icelandic group Múm. Is my girl cultured or what? On second thoughts, don't answer that.

My MD makes the coffee this morning, that’s as in Managing Director, not Mini Doggo. That MD hasn't got the hang of the kettle yet. I know, I shouldn't be ungrateful and it's such a rare treat but he makes it so weak, it might as well not be coffee at all for all the stimulus it gives me in the morning.

Son wows us with news that he got an ‘A’ in his Sociology exam and in the same breath asks for more deodorant. This is excellent news, the results I mean, not the deodorant. Although obviously it’s good to know that these things get used.

L hopes he’s now in a such good enough mood that he’ll wear the nice chequered shirt she bought him the other day and which he turned down. Hmmm, not sure about that. Daughter might though, she likes chequered shirts; she’s been wearing an old one of mine that I unsuccessfully tried to throw in the recycling.

Despite the fact that my opponent claims to have worn himself out playing badminton last night, squash goes to form, e.g. badly.