Rosé Regrets

The Hitchcock Blonde came to stay this weekend and met the geese. She arrived very late on the Friday and rather dangerously came with Rosé. I've not been drinking much while I've been down here so I've got rather out of practice, and for some reason it seemed like a terribly good idea to buy a bit more Rosé on the way back from the train station. I came to regret this for most of Saturday as we polished off three bottles of the stuff and I awoke at 6am feeling terribly unwell.

Saturday was pretty much a write-off, even watching films proved to be a trial and when I went out to chop some wood up with an axe I had to sit down for a bit afterwards and try not to think about being sick. It was a troubled day and so the plan of taking the Hitchcock Blonde to the best vintage clothes shop in Great Britain was shelved. I should point out that The Hitchcock Blonde was also in a bit of a state so I didn't suffer alone. Rosé is now banned as every time I drink it I give myself an injury.

Even though we were both ruined from booze we still managed to affect some introductions with the the poultry, the Geese were cantankerous as usual but the larger ducklings were awfully jovial and so proved a hit. One of the cats was being very friendly and he spent the entire time hunting us around the house.

Sunday was spent doing equally restful things, including a meal that involved home grown vegetables and home-shot game. After that I dropped The Hitchcock Blonde off at her mothers house and returned home. It was nice to have such a relaxing weekend, especially after all the weeks of shovelling.

I'm back to the hard labour again today, it's 10am and I've already been out for a run and dug out some more scrap as part of the on-going cleaning efforts. So it's a good, honest start to the week so I expect I'll be drinking Gin and trying to give myself gout by Tuesday.