Royal Visitor

Aargh! In adjectival agony at the moment, as I reached out at the same time as bending over at a ludicrous angle yesterday whilst carrying unfeasible amounts of shopping (this was not just shopping: this was Marks and Spencer's shopping). Can't bend over at the moment, and sitting not too comfortable either. Wouldn't have mentioned it, but it is relevant to the rest of my witterings.

And my witterings are somewhat akin to Eryl's infamous "squeaking jacket" post, here:
http://thekitchenbitchponders.blogspot.com/2009/07/bat-pits.html

So. Being a creature of habit, very late last night (2am-ish) I was outside observing the sky and having my final cigarette and glass of milk before bed. Then, as usual, I went into the downstairs bathroom to brush my teeth. Which I had to do standing up, not bent over (see above). This change in position let me perceive, in my peripheral vision, a dark shape in the toilet, which is always a little unsettling.
After a small jump (not good for the back), I turned the light on and lo and behold, my prince had come.


However, I was tired, in pain and not in any kissing mood whatsoever. Couldn't have bent over to do it anyway. So I shut the lid, left a note on it for the reliable journeyman husband - Frog inside: Please deal - who was still at work, and hobbled to bed.

No sign of my golden ball this morning, and back still agony.