Pain and agony, dear reader. Pain and agony and suffering. And weeping and wailing and arms a flailing. I have a case of the stomach cramps today and I am feeling as if someone has stabbed me in the gut. It hurts when I breath and when I move it is as if someone is wiggling the aforementioned knife. Well it’s all my own stupid fault. Yesterday, I needed to take Alex the Wonderdog to the vet, but my tummy was a little upset so I took a pill to control myself and now my bowels are in spasm. What a complete and utter fool I am. Will I ever fricking learn? Yes. No more tablets to control my irritable stomach. So I have dosed myself up with peppermint tablets and plenty of liquids and hopefully things will right themselves soon enough.
Today, we had a mobile dog groomer come and make both dogs look mighty purty. Unfortunately, Alex the Wonderdog put up such a struggle that it looks as if the groomer cut his fur with a knife and fork. She never even attempted to groom his tail, so it is still fluffy with 3+ months of growth. He looks like a dingo or African wild dog of the Serengheti. Of all the groomers, this woman was the worst and he looks in such a state, I couldn’t even face taking him out for walkies. Oh the embarrasment.
Last night, I caught the weather on BBC TV. Peter Cockcroft informed me that in the year 2080 the weather will be wetter. For a minute, I thought that I had fallen into an alternative dimension, but I looked at the Missus and she looked at me and we both looked at the TV and yes, Mr Cockroft was talking about the year 2080. Well chances are that I am going to be a long time dead. Good to see that the BBC really has its finger on the pulse and there I was only wanting the three-day forecast.
Roll on 2080, eh? At least there won’t be a hosepipe ban…

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