Amidst the mountains of laundry, Belinda and James spent yesterday morning at Pelham's inter-house athletics meet, where my "I'm dog-tired and need a break from helping people" wife got stuck in buttering rolls and chopping lettuce for the food stalls. In the meantime I ws in Phayipini with one of the society stewards from Prestbury, discussing matters pertaining to the Matthew 25 ministry that Prestbury runs.
By the time we got to lunchtime, it was as hot as blazes and we would have LOVED to have gone home for a much-needed snooze, but unfortunately Mother Hubbard's cupboard was bare and we needed to do some shopping.
Now when a mind is dog-tired, it makes some rather strange (and, in this case- X-rated) connections. For instance, James is still trying to figure out why, when I picked up a packet of pasta (the type with the twirly-wirly shape) and said to Belinda, in a fairly loud voice, quite innocently (I swear!), "You like screws, don't you", that she went all red-faced and burst out laughing.
It seems that, once again, I had opened my mouth to change feet.
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