Chonk. Chonk chonk chonk chonk chonk. CHONK.

My GP's notes after our post Christmas powwow this morning.

Did Rishi say anything about the tax on farts?

SITREP!

Three men on their knees in the kitchen taking turns with a Mamod steam engine.

H.E.L.P M.E.

I wonder what happened to those two guys from Oak Furnitureland.

I won £25 on the Premium Bonds, inmates.

*fans her decolletage with five fivers*

Mr M has engaged alert level "colourful adjectives" chuntering due to Everton's current scoreline.

I am blushing demurely

There was a man practising the bagpipes on the beach today. I asked him why he comes to the beach to do it and he said "Because they told me to stop doing it in the woods"

I'ma watch Hudson Hawk again tonight because it's THE finest film ever made.

Told Mr M there's an app that'll make his phone sound like a Wurlitzer organ and FUCK ME, I really shouldn't have done that.

Me sitting in a car dealersip in my daughter asking sensible and informed questions about engine sizes, tax rates, mileage....

My daughter: BUT I WANT A YELLOW ONE!!!!!

I found the late 1st Mr M's ashes skulking in the wardrobe behind my choicest shoes, today. I dragged him out and put him on the table. Gave him some tea and a biscuit. All this elicited no response from the current Mr M.

Not saying these painkillers are strong, but I thought Alexa was sassing me earlier and got a bit fighty.

Followed Neil Gaiman. My timeline was instantaneously 98% Neil Gaiman 24 hours a day. Felt like an obsessive stalker. Unfollowed Neil Gaiman.