Seems everyone on my f-list have been doing lovely, exciting things lately. I've been doing the sum total of fuck all.
Even our Eurovison-themed weekend for friends coming to visit from Devon didn't come to pass, as their toddler daughter got ill at the last minute (nothing serious though). Typical when you have kids; you plan things meticulously months in advance (husband and wife are both doctors, so that planning takes some doing) and then one of them (the kids usually, not the grown-ups) goes and throws up at the crucial moment and it all goes to pot. Nothing personal against their daughter of course, my boys are just as bad. Still, at least they cancelled BEFORE we'd gone shopping for all the bits for the traditional Swiss fondue we were going to have and various European booze and choccie delicacies. At this rate, it looks like we'll be re-organising for a date in September!
Oh, and we got confirmation for our cheapo 'Sun' newspaper holiday...first choice of caravan park in the Isle of Wight, but third choice of date, i.e. 2nd June, which is waaay too far from next payday to avoid the plastic from getting a bashing. And according to the BBC website the weather's going to be shite too. Still, the Isle of Wight...I've never been there before, it's away from the mainland and it even gets a namecheck in Sergeant Pepper (When I'm 64), so you can't say fairer than that!