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Ah, the early morning dawn chorus of meows that indicates that another of this parish's Sparrow population has ended it's short journey from egg to wheelybin grave in the jaws of the pet of this household. How DO they meow so loudly with their mouths full?

Saturday's here; the week in the fun factory is complete, and it ended less eventfully than the way it started, which frankly I'm quite happy about. The business of Friday was tackled smartly and efficiently, leading to everyone being away on time and in my case, ending up in quite a scuzzy pub that didn't sell real ale with some really very loud people. Hey ho. Fortunately, today plans for today involve being in a pub that DOES sell real ale, after a few basic level domestic chores have been completed.

What Chores?

Pint of Black Sheep please. Thanks.

Auditions for a new joke for that situation will be held shortly.