Let me tell you about my toe. You want to know this.
I ripped the toenail back. Not off, just back to a 90 degree angle. I made a sound like a kitten being squished. That was ages ago and the nail is all dead and still not doing what a nail ought to do and still quite the owie. So I've painted it pink. A nice, jolly shade of pink.
So, yes, have been a trifle slack on the updating front, which would lead you to believe that I have a very exciting and busy life. And I do. It is thrilling. It's been a bitchin' summer. Being unable to get my bung toe into sneakers to do exercisey type things has meant I have had to find other ways to fill my days. I drank a lot of tea, had a lot of guests, had not enough sleep on several occasions and then managed to stub my sick toe which had very bad results. And then I was told I had toes like a budgie. I am going to Google budgie toes to check the validity of this statement in a moment.
I have been taking Spanish lessons. I'm not so good at Spanish.
You know, I'm not really 'feeling' this blog tonight. It's not rolling like a homie. So I will end with the fact that I had a delightful trip to Palmerston North to celebrate pa and I turning 99, an enchanting stay in Christchurch where I practised my cackling, a very brief but awfully good fun time in Wellington last night that involved a small amount of violence on the way home as we free hit each other, and am now in Auckland, having had pints with the gang and then a nap because Penelope is no longer 23 and cannot function so well on four hours' sleep, preparing to not enjoy my flight to London on Tuesday.