I went for a run this evening. I am very far behind on my running course due to having a dodgy knee. It is making me a bit miserable to be honest.
I'd just got in and was hunting around in my bag for some ibuprofen when the phone rang. It was Traybake who is in Ireland at the moment. I asked him to hold on a minute as I foraged in the fridge for a bag of frozen soup and I then lay down in the sofa with the bag of soup against my knee ready to listen to TB's catalogue of woes.
TB is visiting his mother who is not very well. He is also attempting to work. Apparently this morning he decided to get up really early to do some reading before his mother was awake. He was just getting into it when there was a terrible racket outside. Mooing and bellowing and crashing around. His brother's cows had got out and had gone careering down the lane. TB who was in his pjs had to pull on his walking boots and a jumper and go out to investigate. He did not have time to change out of his pj trousers. By the time he had helped his brother sort out the gaps and repair the fence it was already mid morning and too late to do anything.
TB was having one of his Susan Sontag days. According to TB Susan Sontag when she was writing rarely brushed her hair, showered or got dressed. What this means is that when TB works at home generally he looks like Worzel Gummidge. Today was no exception. In fact he probably looked worse than usual as there was bound to have been cow clap involved.
Unfortunately several cousins turned up, home from Amercia for a wedding. They all told TB he hadn't changed a bit. I can only imagine what the young TB must have looked like.
By the time he stopped talking the soup had almost defrosted.