choices, choices…

Slim t.v. pickings today for a non-sporty Republican… snooker or the royal wedding…

One of my batty neighbours has her Cath Kidston bunting up and has been resolutely sipping champagne since 10am. She’s ensconced in the communal back green with her telly – so that rules out that area.
R is scything the garden to a manageable height. And has kicked up pollens and grasses and beasties. I’ve tried – but retreated, sneezing and wheezy.
Maybe the cats have the right idea: they’re curled on my bed, comfortably fast asleep.
Meg is working at Maisie’s today – so I am thinking I might walk to Lanark and keep her company.
Shops are open and I still (yes, really) have a xmas 2010 present to purchase for auntie-whom-I-seldom-see (but will meet up with at a family joint and very swanky birthday party in Stratford-upon-Avon next weekend). Mum has pestered me about this pressie – and I am now at the point where her eye-rolling has worked and I am giving in… Feels positively mad – but it is all bound up in Mum’s ‘rules’ and ‘duty’ and ‘expectations’… It’s easier to give up resisting her…
So: present buying; Meg-accompanying; sleeping or snooker… could be worse, I could be working…