I had a grand lie in this morning.

After getting up and having my morning mug of tea and a grand pipe full, Herself switched on the radio.

It was non-stop whinging and moaning about Swine Flu, and the government who apparently have decided to extend their bank holiday by an extra day and a half [fully paid, of course].  It was gloom, doom, political incompetence and was generally pretty depressing so I fucked the radio out the window and settled back to enjoy a nice peaceful Saturday.

The sun is shining and it is warm out.  I contemplated mowing the laws, as it is a couple of months since I last did it, and Sandy is beginning to find it difficult to find her way back to the house after I have let her out.

I decided that the Interweb can manage without me for a day so I brewed another mug, lit the pipe and happily contemplated whether to start the lawn with the lawnmower or a scythe.  I also calculated how much Paraquat I would need to kill the lot to save me the trouble of mowing it in the future.

The phone rang.

It was our K8.  Could I possibly do some emergency babysitting?

So now I’m stuck indoors.  I brought the laptop with me, but the little wagon has encrypted her wireless network. Luckily she is only using 128 whatsit security so I soon cracked that.

Now I am stuck here with a television blaring out children’s programmes which seemed to be designed to delight the children but irritate the hell out of grandparents.

The television is about to go out the window.

Puppychild has just climbed on my lap.

It’s not a bad Saturday after all.