Tat-too, Brutus? Then dye, Caesar

Oh, Stymates! How I've missed reading your blogs! Give me a few days to catch up on the gossip and going-ons. I get withdrawal symptoms when I don't get to click daily on your faces; this must be what "terminal illness" is ...

Back after three days up north, back with more than I went up with. That's right, I have a cold. My in-laws live less than two hundred miles from us, as the Garmin crow flies, but the weather in the north of England makes me feel like it is an entirely different continent altogether. Where they live is probably twinned with Siberia. Or Manitoba. Maybe Nova Scotia. All of you who live in cold unforgiving climates, I have utmost respect for how you cope on a daily basis, even though I have no intention of living in a place like yours. Each time I head up to my in-laws I almost certainly get a cold; I'll have to seriously consider loading up on vitamin C two or three days before the next trip. Or it could be the teachers' curse - getting a nuisance of a cold during your holidays. Either way, you know what's coming up on the fitness front. Not a heck of a lot. But I got off lucky. My sister-in-law developed viral meningitis when she got there, and only left hospital the day we left. Babysitting duties for me. Isn’t he a cutie?



Tattooing seems to get everyone talking. The scale at the butchers' in-laws' declares that I am really a wee pig. Since September, I have lost fifteen pounds. Those were fifteen pounds I didn’t want to lose. But I still look the same as I did. Conclusion – is whatever muscle I had, turning to fat? Time to up the ante when this cold goes away.

Happy Easter, folks!