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I was quite well last night, thank you. As were the various comestibles, company and even dancing (try that in a monks' cowl). This morning's sourness comes from the temporary stickage in my gullet caused by 20 quid spent on charity raffle tickets without a sou's worth of prize to show for it and nothing to do with the free-flowingness of vinous refreshment.
Could have spent that on patent draft excluder (Nabpcat's no longer small enough to fall through, perhaps I should block them with stacked pussycats).
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David V
Lord Finchley tried to mend the electric light
Himself. It struck him dead and serve him right
It is the duty of the wealthy man
To give employment to the artisan
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