Barmy, balmy

Ted and Beryl had another argument this morning. Not a gentle one either, but one of those where the windows shake and the rafters rattle. Even we, in a separate house, could hear some of the choice words being spoken. I kept Philippa out of the way so her innocent ears could be untarnished.
Ted came over later to officially invite us to the party, and he was smiling and free of bruises, so I guess they sorted it out somehow. He’s asked if we can take our Wii over, so the men can have a golf competition in the lounge while the party’s on. Maybe that was the compromise they reached that stopped Beryl from killing him, or storming off to her sisters.

It should be a fun party, especially if the weather continues as it has been this week. The coldest temperature in our garden has been 17Celsius, and that was last night after tea. Is it really April in England????? I’ve drawn myself a big wall chart so I can record temperature and rainfall and see if I can spot a pattern of localised global warming. Philippa says it looks like the work of a tortured madman.
She has no understanding of the scientific mind.

RC 23-4-11