Lisbeth had a better night last night, I'm pleased to say. I say better, because the night before was not very successful for her, or for me.
Imagine the scene: I am doing my standing thing in the hall. It's just after 4 am. The house is quiet and nothing stirs in the village. Without warning, I hear Lisbeth's bedroom door open. She comes noisily down the stairs and goes into the kitchen. She bumps and bangs around in there for a while then goes back upstairs with a cup of hot chocolate in one hand and a piece of buttered toast in the other. No apology or anything!
To sleep, perchance to dream? Chance would be a fine thing!
Imagine the scene: I am doing my standing thing in the hall. It's just after 4 am. The house is quiet and nothing stirs in the village. Without warning, I hear Lisbeth's bedroom door open. She comes noisily down the stairs and goes into the kitchen. She bumps and bangs around in there for a while then goes back upstairs with a cup of hot chocolate in one hand and a piece of buttered toast in the other. No apology or anything!
To sleep, perchance to dream? Chance would be a fine thing!
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