And next week all my girls and me are on holiday. I’ve set up an email to blog kind of thing so I can inflict my incoherent ramblings on people from the iPhone.
R. and I are watching the end of Top Chef. As one does on a Friday, after a bottle or so of wine.
And I need to test the system, hence the stupid photo of my feet. Maybe I’ll find something more interesting to write about; maybe not.
Like… maybe will the stockmarkets crash tonight? Will Henry Paulson listen to the sincere entreaties of the ordinary joes at buymyshitpile.com ?
The more things change, the more the stay the same. Or some such crap.