Sunday afternoon

Furtle is downstairs baking.

After being collared to grease and line the baking tin I have made a hasty escape and come up to The Tower to check on LJ and write this update.

It will be a comparatively quiet week here at the Athenaeum Club; colonel_maxim has flown out to Florida for a week to see his brother and sister in law, Florida being approximately half way between the UK and Bolivia where they are stationed with the FCO. I find that Opus has gone AWOL again and is accompanying the good Colonel on his travels. As soon as I get the software and connections sorted I shall upload the two pictures I have so far from my new phone. It is entirely possible that I shan't receive any more until they get back as colonel_maxim was not sure whether his pay as you go phone would allow multimedia texts internationally. The last I received was from the airplane just before take off.

That toy has better holidays than I do.

I am more than a little convinced that the spare bedroom in the Athenaeum Club has either a teleportation device or an entrance to the land of faerie concealed within. Over the past two years smokingboot has stayed here regularly while she is in London working. It is not uncommon for her to arrive, stay four or five days and leave without me ever encountering her. Even when I know she's here there are times when our paths do not cross and suddenly she is gone again for a week or two. I didn't find out until after the event that larians had been here overnight too. I don't mind, they are quite welcome both severally and as a pair, but it is the means or entry and egress that baffles me although when she left yesterday morning, Boot did actually use the door.

It is a special place, the Athenaeum Club. I shall miss it when we move.

I didn't pick up my new glasses on Friday. I got to the optician at 5.40 to find that they close at 5.30 on a Friday instead of 6.30 and that they are closed over the weekend. Pah. And to ad insult o injury, I arrived home to find a letter from the quack inviting me to go and have a blood test and enclosing a bag for the sample. A new year and a new round of punctures. As I've said before, I try to make it a policy only to allow them to stick pins in me once every twelve months. They should make the most of this one.

Sunday afternoon

Furtle is downstairs baking.

After being collared to grease and line the baking tin I have made a hasty escape and come up to The Tower to check on LJ and write this update.

It will be a comparatively quiet week here at the Athenaeum Club; colonel_maxim has flown out to Florida for a week to see his brother and sister in law, Florida being approximately half way between the UK and Bolivia where they are stationed with the FCO. I find that Opus has gone AWOL again and is accompanying the good Colonel on his travels. As soon as I get the software and connections sorted I shall upload the two pictures I have so far from my new phone. It is entirely possible that I shan't receive any more until they get back as colonel_maxim was not sure whether his pay as you go phone would allow multimedia texts internationally. The last I received was from the airplane just before take off.

That toy has better holidays than I do.

I am more than a little convinced that the spare bedroom in the Athenaeum Club has either a teleportation device or an entrance to the land of faerie concealed within. Over the past two years smokingboot has stayed here regularly while she is in London working. It is not uncommon for her to arrive, stay four or five days and leave without me ever encountering her. Even when I know she's here there are times when our paths do not cross and suddenly she is gone again for a week or two. I didn't find out until after the event that larians had been here overnight too. I don't mind, they are quite welcome both severally and as a pair, but it is the means or entry and egress that baffles me although when she left yesterday morning, Boot did actually use the door.

It is a special place, the Athenaeum Club. I shall miss it when we move.

I didn't pick up my new glasses on Friday. I got to the optician at 5.40 to find that they close at 5.30 on a Friday instead of 6.30 and that they are closed over the weekend. Pah. And to ad insult o injury, I arrived home to find a letter from the quack inviting me to go and have a blood test and enclosing a bag for the sample. A new year and a new round of punctures. As I've said before, I try to make it a policy only to allow them to stick pins in me once every twelve months. They should make the most of this one.