Pigs and hairbrushes

Van progress has been slowed once more, my patient readers, and we are yet again waiting for supplies and specialist folk who know the ins and outs of putting holes in roofs. New jobs, new business ideas, and plenty of yoga are thrown into the mix though, so we’re still kept on our toesies (Toe Sox to be specific. It’s bloody freezing at 6am these days so my yoga practice warrants them).

In other news, the puppy has had a hair cut (much like the stickers one received when visiting the dentist as a nipper, this little mutt gets a tiny pink bow on his collar. Makes him look like a right cupcake) and it’s the fella’s birthday this week (the Birthday Fairy has been exceptionally kind this year). Oh, and he’s just accepted a job in France for the winter so plans are all scuppered again. And I’ve started whoring myself out to allotment owners for cash (i.e. my pop) who need some digging power (raised beds don-cha-know).

My apologies for the lack of excitement in this week’s installment. I’ll make sure to keep you all extra entertained in the next wittering.

Much love kind folks. Don’t go a-changing.

Because, well, it's a piglet having his hair brushed...
Because, well, it’s a piglet having his hair brushed…
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Posted in Van

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