There I was, minding my own business today, doing a bit of shopping. Well, quite a bit of shopping actually, and more than enough to carry, so I tried phoning home to warn Mr Penry that I was on my way and ask him to give me a hand to carry some bags into the house.
I dialled the number.... no answer.
I dialled several times... no answer.
I began to worry. Where was my beloved?
As it happened, I needn't have worried. In the pouring rain my beloved had lashed not one, but TWO ladders together and climbed the tree at the bottom of our garden in order to put up a bird nesting box. (Silly me. Should have guessed, shouldn't I?)
Best of all, he informed me that his trousers fell down while he was up said ladder, meaning that here, in the Land of the Twitching Curtains, my beloved managed to throw a moonie that was probably visible from Outer Space. It was certainly visible to any neighbours who happened to be watching (which means virtually all of them. Including Mrs Anubis Evans,...)
He has spent the rest of the day, soaking wet and self medicating on the whiskey 'to ward off the cold.'
Hmmm 
