One night last week Kev donned his black polo neck, false beard and well worn cords (that's a pun?) and set off for the "Willie Nelson Appreciation Society open mic night".
My frenzied anticipation for that perfect Pizza and cold bottle of Sauvignon had been building up all afternoon.
........ Only joking mine's Chilean but this does exist.
So I loaded the DVD ('Devil Wears Prada') and laid out my personal feast on the coffee table.
A few minute's later .. summat's up....
The pizza was untouched and ..... now listen because this is serious .... only one sip was missing from the glass. What could be wrong? I'd been feeling a bit shivery during the day.
During the night I formed a close face to face relationship with the toilet bowl.
The following morning Kev showed concern. I was spoiled. He made cups of tea and said consoling words.
I knew I wasn't better when I found myself watching 'Countdown' in the afternoon.
I thought Carol Vorderman was supposed to be slim and detoxed these days.
The following morning I felt decidedly better.
I was tempted to enjoy being an invalid for another day. But - hey, I couldn't afford the time.
I had a lot of idling to do.
Labels: Carol Vorderman Leonard Cohen