Brought to you by the letter S, it seems.


Ugh, I have caught The Sickness from the sprogs. So now I’m all snotty and sulky and sore-throaty.

The Slave’s birthday has the bad form to fall before pay day, so he’s looking at jelly tots and and cheap sparkling wine to tide him over until the cheque arrives. Poor Slave. I shall have to give him extra cuddles.

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