Hello Everybody, are you fine? I feel I ought to explain my two-week absence… Yes, you guessed right, there’s been a to-do…
Completely my fault. Absolutely no one else to blame but myself. I tipped a glass of water over the computer keyboard and there endeth said computer. It was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital. The surgeon was able to save the black box flight recorder so, very fortunately, not all was lost. From the risk assessment, carried out by a very bossy little house, my take home is as follows:
- Hence forth only lidded drinks are permitted on the table when the computer is about.
- Back up Betty! Back up! It was only luck that the memories were saved.
And so now, I have cleared the table of all the dripping detritus and the new computer is stowed away, I feel it is safe for us to bring out the tea things and have a cuppa whilst we see the latest disaster to befall the Little Houses…
Living on the Edge 205; The Burnt Offering…
After the accident, Robert had done his best to repair the damage. However, he knew that, on her return, his grandmother would notice things were not as she had left them…
As the rooks circled above at a loss to explain the new appearance of the landscape, Robert, balanced gingerly on his one remaining stilt, took stock…
The once verdant lawn, which had been covered in daisies, and the little bluebell-filled thicket were now charred beyond recognition. He wasn’t entirely confident that the smouldering was completely finished and the smoky air still stung and clouded his windows. What’s more, and this was the thing that bothered him most, his grandmother would now need a boat to get home… He appreciated he had a fair bit of explaining ahead, starting with the piece of toast he’d taken a notion for on Tuesday evening… xxx