At the risk of turning this blog from a cycling-centric monologue into a D.I.Y how-to, the last 24 hours has been all about cast iron and what NOT to do with it.
When we moved house, one of the primary features of the living space was a cast iron spiral staircase. Now, if you were thinking "Oooo! there just isn't enough cast iron stair in my life" at any point, let me counsel you to stop and think once more. Because when you conclude that your decision lacked clarity, and you want to move the beast out of your house, lets just say it takes a fair old bit of elbow grease. Yet again, i owe my dad big time for the efforts.
Then of course once you have done this, stir in a generous portion of your just-well daughter vomiting her guts up 'til midnight. Stir and take it all down the hatch without a scratch.
I should add, i HATE the smell of vomit. I doubly hate the smell of vomit as it is soaking though my clothes. The poor, wee lamb - i could cry for her...i really could.
Ok: other stuff.
New Black Keys album soon.
New The Roots album soon.
The P Phone has ended her incarceration. She went outside for the first time in ~6 weeks yesterday. Her new porthole into the outside wall is perhaps a little snug fitting, but i'm sure its just her winter coat, right?
Talking of which...