Cockney in a Cage
Seems that, and forgive my rubbish Latin, draughtus lageris helps reduce the symptoms of my sleeping sickness. I'm guessing it's one of those medical anomalies like giving speed to hyperactive children to calm them down.
Norm and Rose decided to meet me after work yesterday, and I took them for a walk around the City, ending up at Ledenhall Market for a couple of pints.
"I've never seen so many people," was Rose's less-than-surprising response. And businessmen drinking beer in the open air! Oh my stars, you'd think we'd uncovered a new species.
Meanwhile, back at M2 (I told you the new place needed a nickname) I was woken up by delivery men this morning. Hot.
The new bed we ordered several months back has arrived this morning. The moving crew are huffing and puffing up the stairs right now, getting ready to put it together. You'd think grown men who make a living delivering furniture wouldn't be so afraid of a few flights of stairs.
I'm making them tea to calm their nerves. Yes, I'm a giver.
Larry's on business trip to Liverpool (Nice, eh? Relatives come, he nips off to the north), so I'm thinking the cute one with the near unintelligble accent might have to give the new bed a quick test run. Just to make sure the frame is sturdy and the cage canopy works.