The Morning After
Sunday. Sleep was not my friend last night, despite getting an early one. I woke at three, came downstairs to potter about and make myself sleepy again, before crashing on the sofa till six. I awoke to the sound of Milo and Monty chatting in the kitchen. Monty had been up around four as well—body clock not yet back on local time—so he’d gone for a walk. He bumped into Milo coming home after a night of clubbing with his friends, so they went, quite rightly, for an early McDonald’s breakfast. We all chatted in the kitchen while Vanessa got ready for work. Milo was still pleasantly merry, bless him, and soon fell fast asleep at the kitchen table. The rest of the day was pretty quiet, but later in the afternoon, I prepared a nice, big roast chicken dinner, complete with plenty of stuffing balls and Yorkshire puddings.
