Hooch, mon

The hard work of clearing the house continues. I look around me and wonder how we are ever going to achieve the task but then I see the spaces appearing and recollect that the furniture now mostly has sold spots marking it. Maybe we shall get there.

Yesterday was a busy one with much of my crafting stock exiting the building. Though much also remains, I have great hopes of the local Guides and Brownies taking it for their art cupboard. Today has been very slow. In fact there have been complaints from The Management. Nell is unhappy that she has had insufficient callers today willing to play ball with her.

Mr L is emptying the wardrobe of his clothes so that we might dismantle it for removal but took time out to venture forth for milk. Once again, he came home with half price alcohol. The shop is now down to the dregs – he came home with Hooch! Though I have to admit that I have fond memories of drinking this stuff on the top deck of the Dry Dock after work on Summer Friday afternoons… I will not be consuming a lot as I recall that it induces an unpleasant headache if over-indulged.

O, the memories, the lazy lunches, ┬áthe pints of Spitfire, the cheesey chips, the happy hours, the traffic fumes…

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