Yesterday morning was one of those ‘bacon for everybody! Freshly squeezed orange juice! The world is my playground!’ sort of mornings. I was roaring like a lion at 6am and begging Tosc not to go to work. But go to work he did. Bloody workaholic.
So I went out for a very, very long walk – tipping my imaginary hat, snapping my imaginary braces, smiling at children and women and dogs. By the time I got back home my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I didn’t even care.
I stayed in last night (not sure I can handle drunken self-cathing in public lavatories just yet…) but going to the pub for a quiet one tonight, close to home in case I have to make some mad dash. Might go swimming this afternoon. I might book a weekend break for me and Tosc. I might I might, because I can, I can.