It's about Eleven o'clock on a Saturday morning. I've already been to the shops and bought eggs and milk and OJ. I've made the tea, drunk the tea, let Jules' tea get cold, made another cup for Jules, and while that one cools, I've finally set up a wee blog.
Jules is, quite frankly, rubbish in the mornings; horrible to know before noon if she's been on the sauce the night before. Here's a picture of Jules:
(Don't worry: there are better ones.)
She's the most tremendous woman when she's got up and drunk her tea. She motivates and laughs and makes, quite justified, fun of me. Today, for example, we're making a start on the decorating of the bedroom. I'll be the one making excuses to do other stuff: "Oooh! Look! An interesting cloud!"; Jules, very sensibly, will be saying things like: "Yes, but it's not as interesting as the Guinness that will be coming your way when the sanding's all done. Don't cha think?"
You may already have guessed that alcohol is a great motivator in our lives.
"Why, oh why would you be a-decorating on this rainy Saturday in glorious August, Dames?", I hear you question. Ah, dear reader, here is the very nub, crux and raison d'etre of this blog what you is perusing. In two months and five days, Jules and Dames will be stepping aboard an Iberia flight from Heathrow to Santiago, Chile.
1 comment:
We love you, Joe. Don´t go getting any taller, now.
D&J
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