Zip, zap. Fighting the virus so I can be relentlessly restless again; the audio files have been uploaded and sent to the CD manufacturer and the lyric book is on its way here after I gave the printer the wrong phone number last week (got out of bed to take it down there, perhaps unwisely).
I am making a tour diary of sorts, most of which is going to be on Facebook, but some of which I will put here too if I have time. It's those 52 websites which I have to mark and haven't started yet. You really do need your brain for that and mine is left behind last week somewhere.
The Offsprogs have
and I miss them already although they have left their Easter chocolates (sadly, just ghosts of Easter chocolates now) and a light spreading of clothing draped on radiators, chairs, and of course, the floor. It would be cruel to leave the floor out, wouldn't it?
There are so many things that I wanted to do today but haven't done because my legs still feel like jelly. I am doing one thing really, really well: sitting down. I think I should have one of those rosettes for that, the ones you get for making nice jam in tent in Miss Marple programmes, and that actually used to be real when I was a nipper in Northumberland.
This were the days: School Nurse Terror, Mr Hazen with his cane and his mad, popping eyes, and Mrs Herdman with her vicious grasp and smacky hands scaring the living daylights out of classes with 40 children in them.
And look what we grew up to be!