Now, I might have the wrong picture here because I can’t see what I’m writing under. I think this is Cal being slightly brave, if pensive, before striding up Arthur’s Seat, the volcano (okay, okay, it’s extinct, but we didn’t tell Sylv that initially). This was the morning we got up to find our apartment surrounded by police tape, following an incident. Which we slept through. All five of us. We didn’t assist police with their enquiries.
And if I’m correct, this is me being brave taking a photo of a penguin from an alien orange disc-eyed colony. Good eyebrows though.
And if I’ve got these the wrong way round, you know what you have to do. Because, you know what. I’m not going to change them round. Because I’m that way out tonight.
Fab time in Scotland last week. And then we came home and I stayed in bed from Saturday night until this morning with raging tonsillitis. Cal became my nurse and announced that I had a sore throat because I had swallowed the food. He then reassessed his diagnosis and declared it was because I had swallowed my mouth. Autistic brains are verrrrry interesting. I asked for a second opinion.
Must go and recover some more.
Answers to the photo quiz: a deep fried Mars bar from the fish and chip shop frequented by the Queen. She wasn’t there.