Apparently when I was very young I once wandered into my mum and dad's bedroom, feeling somewhat the worse for wear, managed to squeak out 'I feel...' and was sick over their bedroom floor.
Today Rumpole came wandering into the lounge as Sal and I chilled out in front of the tele, gave a couple of gurgling burps that, with hindsight, we know are the canine equivalent of my 'I feel...' and then threw up over the floor. Seems a chunk of chicken bone, that looked worryingly like a dogs molar, had disagreed with him.
That's m'boy.
Exercise du jour was a 24 minute run that felt bloody awful, followed by a lawn mowing session (OK, not strictly exercise, but I worked up a sweat) and then I had a pre-race waxing (above the waist) before aforementioned tele chill. That's about it.
On the depressing subject of television in this fine country...it seems that the very best on offer free-to-air is two year old Top Gear episodes brought in from the homeland. The rest is a relentless barrage of (un)reality and game shows. Cable is acoming, the war of attrition that free to air is waging against me being won programme by programme, hour by hour. Actually, ABC and SBS do have a few gems, but they are well spaced.
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