Laurel and Hardy

The piano arrived a short while ago. I was disappointed that the movers weren't Laurel and Hardy. They did the job swiftly and efficiently and departed before I could get the kettle boiled for a cup of tea. I thought we'd get a bit of the old music hall routine.

"Did you know the piano's on my foot?"

"No, but if you hum it, I'll play along."

My Beloved is crying off Her writer's group tonight to play with Her new toy. This is a source of some angst to me. I normally have some bloke food on these evenings. You know the sort of thing - kebabs, anything deep fried, a very cheap pie and a huge pile of chips or a fat lad's breakfast. This is known as a Heart Attack on a Plate. Instead, we'll have a bit of shepherd's pie which She made yesterday.

I'll go and have the delayed cup of tea and perhaps a sausage sandwich with a a bit of bacon, and a side order of chips and black pudding. Or maybe not.