Tiredness. I’m tired. I should probably be in bed. Why am I tired? I’m not entirely sure. Perhaps it’s because I now get to look after the children solo for a few hours at the weekend while Louise is at work. Or perhaps it’s the after effects of those cocktails last night. (Aside: I really don’t like Campari. At all. Way too bitter. I really want to take a test to see if I’m a supertaster; I certainly fit the profile.)
(Another aside: The wind started to pick up a few minutes ago and blew over some of our milk bottles, so Louise and I have had a fun time crawling under our cars with torch and broom. Not feeling so tired right now.)
We’re planning to go and see Casino Royale on Wednesday evening. Tim W seems to rate it; Mark less so. I’m still hoping to see The Prestige, given it’s relation to Batman Begins and Tim S’ recommendation. However, I don’t think our babysitter quota will stretch far enough. So, Tim, it’s not Borat but can I interest you in some Bond? (I was going to write Bondage there but I hear double entendres went out with Brosnan.)