Monkton Mondays!

It’s been a mixed weekend. Spent the first half of International Women’s Day in School at the PTM with Junior. All was well except that I was down with one of those inexplicable attacks of the common cold – you know the ones where you were perfectly fine the day beforeΒ (or so you thought!) but woke up to a hundred sneezes? Yup! That’s the one! Well, Mom had to be on duty, cold or no cold, predictably; and so she was, again – predictably. Dad was…lets just not go there shall we? Wouldn’t want to begin the first post for the week with a rant against husbands. So passΓ© n’est pas?!

Junior has found his footing in school, more or less. He’s happy to go, happy to learn and generally happy for the most part πŸ™‚ Fingers crossed for Grade 1 in August! The second half of Saturday I spent ‘zonked out’ in bed. There is no better term to describe it, I promise! It was the sleep of the afflicted and it was restorative to say the least. Woke for an hour around dinnertime, when Hubby redeemed himself a tad by taking the Munchkin and himself out to dinner and bringing me back some Pepperoni Pizza. And before you jump down my throat saying Pizza is not appropriate nutrition for the afflicted; let me jump right down yours and say IT IS πŸ˜› Proof lies in the fact that I felt much recovered on Sunday and was able to attend my first Sunday Soul Sante – a Bangalore institution of sorts I imagine, a fiesta of arts & crafts supplemented with the requisite food stalls, fashion show and live music πŸ˜€ The traffic was killing but luckily the venue was practically in our backyard, and I had fun wandering around with Junior, discovering little treasures, for an hour or so. That’s my limit in a crowd that size…longer is unthinkable!

I don’t know whether this is a part of growing older too (so much of what I feel and experience seems to be), but routine weekdays are now ‘easier’ than planning weekends πŸ˜› This morning for example, I must confess to feeling a disproportionate elation on the arrival of Monday πŸ˜‰ Perhaps the fact that I look forward to writing this post and a new theme in my Photgraphy Challenge has a little something to do with? Possibly…whatever the reasons, it feels good to be alone, in a silent house and able to write; able to think. Also I’m happy to report the number of sneezes is down to 10 πŸ™‚ and that I have finished my latest Julian Barnes book, Levels of Life, which has reinforced my love of his writing manyfold. He writes about grief (don’t they all?!), but he weaves magic with his insight into ‘grief’ and ‘the mourning process’ as he sees it, so that in the end it doesn’t leave me feeling as depressed as I expected it would. As always he tells not a conventional story – that is not his way – this reads more like a philosophical essay perhaps – I’m unsure of where and how to slot it, which for me is part of its allure.

Through ballooning and photography, and the journeys of three fascinating real-life characters (completely and utterly unknown to me), who are ‘put together’ and ‘torn apart again’, he explores the mysteries of the human heart and mind and weaves his way to the story of his own grief, his own journey, his own process. All this is in 118 pages! Along the way, he taught me a few new words too, ‘divagations’, ‘recidivism’, ‘solipsism’…words that I had to look up and that are now happily a part of my consciousness. Every thought he offers, every feeling he feels, felt real and resonated with forceful impact, no doubt because of the loss of my own brother 5 years ago. I identify on a gut level where he’s coming from. No explanations required. Needless to sayΒ I’m in complete agreement with one of the judges who awarded him the 2011 Man Booker Prize, who called him ‘an unparalleledΒ magus of the heart’. I don’t know of a better way to describe his writing πŸ™‚

And so to Mr. Monkton – I must confess I’d almost forgotten him in my Barnes soliloquy πŸ˜› but not quite! What with Women’s Day (although everyday is Women’s Day in my book!), and finishing this book which may be obviously about grief but is just as obviously about love, I think this thought of Mr. Monkton says it all. I’ve always thought that we women never do as good a job of loving ourselves and other women as much as we do with the men and children in our lives. And I firmly believe that’s it’s the only way forward! So here’s to self-love without which I believe there can be no form of lasting love at all.


Love Yourself People! You’re WORTH it!Β 

And then…Pass it On πŸ™‚

Happy Monday!

Thursday Thoughts…

Lately I’ve had Roots on my mind – the botanical kind, the metaphorical kind and the ties that bind. Unsurprisingly, all this interest in ‘delving deep’ arises from the fact that they’ve are also the theme of this week’s Take52 Photography Challenge!

I’ve said this before and I’m saying it again – I consider myself the proverbialΒ ‘Rolling Stone’, one that gathers a few bits of moss while otherwise going about merrily on its way. It’s an existence that suits my restless soul, and so the question of being rooted in a place, while occasionally seductive, is never a long-term goal. But as with all things, times change; and with Junior’s schooling to think of, I cannot quite give in to the ‘traveling’ urge whenever it strikes, which is fairly often! Consider the facts – I have lived in one city but changed 4 houses in 10 years! The longest I’ve lived in any house as an adult is 4 years! I’ve grown up in Goa and that’s where I’ve lived the largest chunk of my life so far, and yet, I cannot and do not consider it ‘home’. Not in the way I would like to. It’s my parents’ home, the house I grew up in, became a doctor in, got engaged in, got married from, lost my brother in…but it is still most definitely my parents’ home – NOT mine. So although it’s most certainly the closest thing to home, it isn’t quite the same.

And so it got me thinking about what ‘Roots’ really means? I feel happily rootless for the most part and enjoy the feeling of belonging ‘everywhere in general but nowhere in particular’ πŸ˜› Am I kidding myself? Living in denial? Probably. Should I be concerned at these divagations and get myself a settled life, whatever that means? (Ooh! The very thought sends shivers down my spine!) Or is being ‘Rooted’ just a feeling in our hearts, like Christmas?! I like to think it is – after all haven’t we all been taught, “Home is where the Heart is.” But the heart is unpredictable, a wayward mistress who pulls this way and that, going wherever fancy dictates πŸ˜‰ She is redolent with good intentions but we all know where those may lead πŸ˜› At the moment she has brought me to Bangalore and so I try to grow roots yet again, in another new city! Do you feel ‘rooted’ where you are? And I don’t just mean geographically.

I often feel I’ve been born in the wrong time, the wrong place, the wrong everything – and yet I have no idea at all of what the ‘right’ time and place would look like. At times the restlessness is so acute, it’s hard to find focus. I feel like a caged bird, staring at the open door, my gift of flight forgotten. Maybe it’s the Sagittarian in me – the horse stamping his hooves, chomping at the bit to begin roving. So no…I’m not sure ‘Rooted’ is for me, or that I’ll ever be rooted in place, although Time shows more promise πŸ˜‰ Somewhere deep inside I want to live in Narnia, in Middle Earth – walk among talking beasts and Fauns, commune with Elves and Hobbits and bask in the grace of Aslan πŸ™‚ When I look around me and see the World – ridden with strife and traumatised by the collective abuse of us arrogant humans – I want so desperately for the fantastical to be real. A sanctuary from all the chaos. If wishes were horses eh?

And so I try as best I can to bestill my aching heart, when that wanderlust strikes. And I think about where I might put down roots if I had to. Then I close my eyes and dream – of Narnia πŸ™‚


Thursday Thoughts…

Here’s a thought…I am so much more regular when I’ve got a theme going or a challenge. Are you like that? Can you be regular and diligent without a deadline looming? Even if it is a passion? I mean I love to write and take pictures and I like to write poetry too but of late it has forsaken me. I say this because I never seem to be able to think up a poem on my own…as in, when something, anything really, affects me deeply (whether at a conscious or sub-conscious level), I let it stew for a while…ruminate in my soul as it were and see if something emerges. It used to be that a poem would often emerge…scattered words and thoughts that would wander into my consciousness and coalesce gently into an idea and birth an emotion that felt ‘right deep down in my gut’. That’s when I would sit down and put pen to paper and eventually they would flow and make sense.

These days however that happens less and less frequently. I always seem to be ‘doing’ and never taking time out to just ‘be still’. And although I’m doing things I love to do, I crave the stillness that births my poetry and so this morning when a thought came into my head, uncalled for, sudden and persistent, I felt fulfilled…like when you find that elusive piece of the puzzle, that puts everything in the right perspective? Just like that πŸ™‚ It’s just a couple of lines but it helped me understand what’s been going on underneath all that ‘doing’. My family is ageing…everyone I love is growing older, and age brings with it a unique set of circumstance and issues – most of which have appear to have no solutions. And while for the most part I can cope, lately I think the worry & concern that’s never far below the surface must have increased ever so slightly tipping the scales, so that it finally ran over into my consciousness. Well that’s what I think anyway.

And for some reason the first thought that then popped into my head was of this picture of a leaf in it’s final stages that I took ages ago. It’s a favourite of mine…because of the intricate patterns that a bug has created, delicate and fragile like Life itself. And so it is with Dementia…as Time eats away some parts of the brain and spares others, creating patterns that change the very essence of who we thought we once were. So relentless, so merciless, so final. It’s hard to watch the people who were pillars of your world fade away and slowly disappear, while you watch on helpless. It is hard and hurtful and tremendously scary, coz through the constant concern for their well-being, there’s a little anxious voice that whispers,Β “Will this happen to me too? WhatΒ if this happens to me?”Β andΒ “What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?”Β in a never-ending loop.

And because it is so scary, we push it deep down and cover it with all the ‘stuff’ of Life, until we feel insulated enough to go about our routine as normally as we can. And we get pretty good at the cover-up, so that we begin to believe that things will indeed be alright, until Wham! One day – a thought emerges…


P. S.Β I’ve decided to make ‘Thursday Thoughts’ into a weekly thing…just one more attempt at being regular at writing and a place where I can lighten my load by sharing it with you guys! And don’t worry…not every Thursday will be dark & heavy πŸ˜› It’s not in my nature to stay that way long! What do you think? I’m game if you are.

Monkton Mondays!

This is my 300th post!! Rather chuffed I am, in a silly sort of way πŸ˜› Didn’t think I’d last this long…not known for my sticking to any one thing for a significant length of time…just ask Mom or Hubby or…well Me πŸ˜‰ I’m a restless soul – and in lieu of any other explanation – I must concede that I was born this way. I’m like the proverbial rolling stone, rolling this way and that, gathering bits of moss – some stick, some fall away, all leave a mark – invisible or otherwise. It isn’t entirely a bad way to be, to live…although there are moments when I crave the illusion of security that chaperones the more steady existence. Very brief moments πŸ˜‰

For the most part though…I’m content with being who I am and Happy – in the way a ride on the roller coaster makes me happy πŸ˜› It might not be everyone’s cup of coffee (I am not a tea person) – but it suits me just fine πŸ™‚ I want to send a huge THANK YOU to all my readers without whom…on many days…there would have been no reason to lay pen on paper or I suppose finger on key! Many are the times when I have despaired of ever writing another word, and a nudge from a friend has rekindled the flame. You know who you are – THANK YOU!Β And I LoveΒ You all for your kind words of encouragement and support. Can’t do it without you, so please keep the emoticon-0152-heartΒ coming People πŸ™‚ There…that’s my little ‘speechy’ moment all done and dusted πŸ˜‰

And in return for all the Love you have shown me here’s a little something from Mr. Monkton that I hope you will find useful!


Because…we could ALL do a little bit of Loveliness in our LivesΒ n’estΒ pas?

Happy Monday Mes Amis πŸ˜€

P. S. If this post seems rambly blame it on Sherlock! Uh huh! Watching Benedict Cumberbatch while trying to write will do that to you πŸ˜› Not that I’m complaining πŸ˜‰

Monkton Mondays!

Monday again! How regularly they turn up! Oh well…it has been a quiet weekend and although Hubby returned from a week-long absence and entertained Junior for a couple of hours…well that’s just it…it’s a couple of hours out of the 24 and not nearly enough…but hey! I’ll take what I can get. I’m a little out of sorts…can you tell? It’s how I typically react when Hubby gets back from being away…there’s the return to a more intensive routine that bugs me for a while versus the joy of having him home. It takes a few days to get things in balance again. The achievement of that equilibrium is howeverΒ a delicate process – easily derailed – often by silliness and randomness πŸ˜› You know what I mean…having to make a cup of tea when I’m deeply engrossed in a book…that sort of thing πŸ˜‰ Also, is it just me or does just the one extra person mean so much extra work and planning?!

Oh I know I’m cribbing…who cares! It’s Monday and I’m entitled…especially because I’ve just received a phone call from my maid’s Mom saying she isn’t well and won’t be coming to work today…so as soon as I get breakfast for said, now unsurprisingly, even more irritating Hubby, (this is a very Asian thing me thinks; this getting all het up with the Hubby when the maid disappears!), it’s off to do a sink full of dirty dishes and other ‘housework’, when I’d rather be writing! See what I mean! Well, at least she called which is more than some others do!

But there is one thing I did this morning that might just be my ‘Happy Fix’ for the day…took a picture of the beautiful, luminous moon at 6 am as soon as I got up πŸ™‚ Just writing about it brightens my mood! So I guess it’s true about the Deadly Donkey then…


Well now! Isn’t that a deep rhyme to be living by! Sounds a lot like my Granny actually πŸ˜› Thank you Mr. Monkton for your deep insights!

So today…I choose the Moon in all her wonderful lunacy!Β 

Isn't she beautiful? :)
Isn’t she beautiful? πŸ™‚

And you? Choose well People!

Happy Monday πŸ™‚Β 

The Birthday Story…

So here we go again…another year under a considerably broader belt πŸ˜‰ Isn’t it wonderful how the years have been expansive in addition to everything else?

I had thought of what I wanted to say and it was pretty much the same stuff I say every year around this time. Then an hour ago, I listened to this talk by Nigerian author Chimamanda Adichie entitled The Danger of a Single Story and she blew me away with her eloquence and the simple lucidity with which she articulated her thoughts. She was brilliant and the subject matter intriguing. She talks about how we cannot know a place or a person unless we know all their stories – and there are many. How we can dispossess and diminish people by concentrating on just one of their stories, when empowerment and humanity are just another story away. What she said isn’t new, but the way she said it was powerful and I listened spellbound. She’s a fantastic storyteller. If you have a few minutes, give her a listen. You won’t regret it.

And so naturally I began to think of all the different stories that make me who I am today and that continue to evolve around and within me shaping my tomorrows. There are ongoing sagas and a million short stories. There is poetry and farce. It’s part soap-opera and part fairy tale. And at the very heart of it all is me – just another little speck of dust whirling away in the Big U – following my own orbit and trying to figure out ‘What Next? What’s the next story?’

And I find myself asking that now – what is that next story? But it’s mostly rhetoric, you know what I mean? It’s what makes this journey exciting – the not-knowing! So although there are a few stories that even now are unfolding and others that lie nascent – all I want to do today is be thankful for all of them. And I want to thank my friends and my family for allowing me into their lives, their hearts and their stories – cause that is what I am – the product of a million different tales. I am honoured and I am grateful. It’s been wonderful and it’s been worth it πŸ˜€

And if you still haven’t wished me – well that’s a whole ‘nother story πŸ˜‰ πŸ˜›

Have a Happy Day People ❀

Here’s to Stories & Storytellers everywhere πŸ™‚

Monkton Mondays!

I’m cheating! I do that from time to time! This time I’m posting a Monkton Monday post on Tuesday morning – unashamedly I might add! Yesterday I was in a ‘funk’ – not very inclined to be sociable, just one of those days when I didn’t do much other than laze around (I’m an expert in laziness), and gaze into the distance until my eyes were cross-eyed with fatigue. Wasn’t day-dreaming or thinking or doing anything in particular – just, you know, being. My friends say it happens, it’s a mid-life thing. I tend to agree, in the absence of a more concrete definite reason. Coz at the moment – Life is good! The new house is falling into place, a trip to Pondicherry is round the corner as is a visit from my nieces and a dear dear friend πŸ™‚ It’s just that I know that I’m happy without being obvious about it, if you know what I’m saying. It’s really difficult to put it down on paper – all these nuanced emotions that defy conventional logic and elude words. We humans thrive in this complex existential soup we cook up, don’t we? And yet every self-help book out there tells you how Life is actually meant to be so simple πŸ˜› Of course they take a million words to get to that point, but Hey! who’s counting? πŸ˜‰

I believe this post was meant to be posted today instead of yesterday. Why else would the image below turn up when I was looking through Monkton’s work? It’s that thing that the experts say happens – The Universe marshaling it’s infinite resources in it’s infinite wisdom (I love that everything about the Big U is infinite!), to send you exactly what you need. I believe in the power of the Big U and in the matchless wisdom of Mr. Monkton who hasn’t failed me yet!



You see what I mean?Β 

Have a wonderful week ahead People! trust in the Big U πŸ™‚

Monkton Mondays!

Another week dawns and suddenly I’m hit with this inexorable relentlessness of time passing…I’m feeling a little out of sorts…no major reason…just one of those days and…hormones πŸ˜‰

Life is meandering along rather pleasantly truth be told, but maybe that’s what’s causing this niggle of ‘Is this the calm before some massive thunderstorm?’. I’m generally not suspicious of the calm, and even as I type, I’m thinking, ‘Here I go rambling on again!’ – it must be the hormones! They’re bloody potent – pardon my french πŸ˜› Or could it be the Once Upon a Time marathon I’ve indulged in over the weekend? Sudden emergence from long sojourns in magical worlds with fairy-tale characters – one of which is a rather divine Captain Hook all geared up in black leather and a flirty manner, can lead to disorientation when confronted with the mundane reality of Monday morning routine. What say?! Or maybe it’s a combo of Hook & Hormones & the P.D. James murder mysteries that I’ve been reading?!Β 

Perhaps it’s the fact that I lost a Grand-uncle a few days ago – someone that I used to know well when I was much younger although we had lost touch in recent years as often happens. Death is always a wake up call of sorts isn’t it? Or it should be to those of us that are alive. It brings reflections and memories and stories of days gone by and for a couple of days after, life mimics a maudlin soap opera. My Mom was much more affected by his passing than I was – he was her uncle after all – and she had a much closer bond with him than I did. She told me how he had helped her plant the coconut trees in our garden when the house was being built more than 2 decades ago. We had stayed with them for a fortnight during that time as well, which I can’t seem to remember at all! He had a good life and at 84, his passing wasn’t a terrible tragedy, just a gentle reminder that all things must Β eventuallyΒ end. It left me with a gentle sadness on losing yet another figure from my youth and a vague feeling of having to ‘get on with it.’

But enough with the psychoanalysis – for whatever reason – there’s a mild sense of ennui with life that I’m finding hard to shake off at the moment. Not to worry – this too I expect shall pass – everything does.The week that was and the weekend were pretty pleasant, if rather routine. We finally found a sofa that we liked – a slouchy black leather affair that will suit us family of couch potatoes to the tee πŸ˜‰ It should arrive today – such are the small pleasures of domesticity πŸ˜› Last Thursday found me in School. I’ve volunteered for a Reading Program in my son’s grade and for half-an-hour every week, I read stories to bright young children with definite points of view. I love the experience of spending time with minds for whom the world still exists in black and white! The ‘Grey’ hasn’t invaded their universe yet and simplicity is easy. ‘Oh for the days before Grey’ πŸ™‚ Nothing like spending time with children to snap you out of the doldrums I say!

Then on Saturday evening, Junior and I attended a Halloween Party at his friend’s place…in a house decorated with balloons, bats, pumpkins and webs and overrun with little witches and all manner of cartoon characters running amok, brandishing multi-colored balloon swords while screeching like banshees! You get the picture?! It’s a good thing you can’t hear them πŸ˜› Exhilarating and yet utterly exhausting!Β Sunday morning lunch was the perfect antidote…relaxed lunch at Toscano’s, an Italian restaurant that serves amazing food in a totally chilled out atmosphere. Utterly enjoyed my Wine Mojito and Wild Mushroom Ravioli, while the boys pigged out on Lobster Thermidor! Hubby left town on work that evening which sort of dampened the mood a bit – but also allowed for a restful afternoon siesta – something I haven’t had in a long long time.

So that’s it – my Life in a Nutshell last week, which brings us finally to the honourable Mr. Monkton πŸ˜‰ And because I’m feeling, out of sorts with nothing significant to feel out of sorts about – I leave you with this gem that once again expresses exactly how I feel better than any rambling blog post! I stared at the words for so long this morning, my eyes began to water! I was trying to figure out their meaning of course. Are toasts meant to have ears? This is the first I’ve heard of it! And finally I gave up and surrendered to his infinite wisdom – some things in life are best felt and not necessarily understood. The man is a genius!

The toast without ears

Make sure all your toasts have ears this week πŸ˜‰ Or else…BEWARE πŸ˜›

Have a Good week People πŸ™‚

Monkton Mondays!

Another week, another Monday! I realize I haven’t posted in a while, again, but I’m past making up excuses for myself or for anyone else…it’s just the way Life gets sometimes – there are days, weeks, even months – when I stay away from the Blogosphere for no reason other than ‘no reason’. You know? I just couldn’t be bothered and there’s no deep secret as to why…it’s just because…

Other times, I can’t stay away and will abandon everything to sit and write, as if writing is the only thing that will keep me alive. Over time I’ve realized that I like to share the happy times but not the sad, and yet when I put ‘Happy’ down on the page, it often sounds mundane and boring because so much of Happiness is about context right? Can you tell I’m rambling? I am! It’s just been one of those Monday mornings when I got up with great intentions but lost steam even as the clock approached noon! Perhaps it’s because I was reading Louise Penny’s How the Light Gets In (the concluding book in her Inspector Gamache series), and was lost in the forgotten village of Three Pines that always seems to me like it Β exists somewhere on the edge of Time. A good mystery can do that me, and these days I find it so much easier to live in fiction than deal in reality.

For those of you who read the last post – there’s an update – have ‘sort of’ made up with my Mom – although not before another blowout that happened – you guessed it – last Monday. Now we’re talking to each other – carefully, delicately, probably calculatingly – weighing every word, trying to predict every reaction and just being very ‘polite’ to each other in that awful way, if you know what I mean. Denying that anything serious ever happened also helps of course! Denial is the cure for all things – at least in the short-term, until they come and bite you in the you-know-where! And they do! So until the next crisis – All’s Well. If neither of us is jumping with joy – we can always blame it on our arthritic knees – what say? πŸ˜‰

And so as usual, after another rambling post about nothing in particular, I reach the end and wonder yet again how to tie in my words with a Monkton picture. And as always, Mr. Monkton rises to the occasion. The man is beginning to frighten me with how perceptive he is! Is it even legal for men to be so smart and sensitive? πŸ˜› Since I’m feeling all pensive and rambly today, ‘A Deep Thought on Life’ seemed just the thing. This one seemed to fit my mood best…I’m sure you can see why!


Do you see now? Ever so often I’m off dancing to someone else’s drum!! How can I help it when their music seems much more appealing than mine? Even if just for a little while? And sometimes, dancing to someone else’s drum is the only way to unbreak your own πŸ™‚

Happy Monday People! Dance to music of your drums if you will, but don’t be afraid of switching from your Samba to my Tango, if that’s what gets your feet tapping πŸ˜‰

Monkton Mondays!

My friend A posted a Monkton gem on Instagram a couple of days ago and was kind enough to mention that she missed Monkton Mondays πŸ™‚ I was delighted of course and also somewhat chastised coz I’ve neglected this Blog rather cruelly for a long time although, for what I tell myself, is a great reason. I’ve moved cities after all – and setting up a new home, getting Junior accustomed to a new school and routine while trying to keep ‘self’ positive and motivated is no walk in the park!Β 

Settling down is a slow business for someone like me at the best of times, given my natural talent for restlessness and impatience – but I suppose if I don’t force the writing out occasionally, it’ll dry up and wither into a tangled web of shriveled thoughts – and that wouldn’t be good for my health now would it?! So Thank You A, for the nudge that has made me determined to pen this post, although I’ve just spent a good two hours stuck in the harrowing Bangalore traffic and will no doubt spend two more when I leave to pick up Junior. 5 hours a day in a car! Hmmm…maybe now’s the time to get that dream car πŸ˜‰ After all this trouble, all I want to say is – He better be worth it! Coz Lord knows I’ve earned it! πŸ˜‰

Since I had the two hours to stew in traffic, this gem from Monkton seemed particularly appropriate today. I wish I had a tablet that would sprout me wings so that I could fly freely over every traffic jam Life threw my way! Now that is a powerful wish πŸ˜› Perhaps in the land of Faerie, they would sell me my wish πŸ˜‰ I’m reading Stardust by Neil Gaiman, (my first Gaiman, although certainly not my last!), and spend much of my day inhabiting Faerie in my head πŸ™‚ It helps with those traffic jams too! And so this week I pay due homage to those ‘magical chemicals’ that keep me ticking even when somewhere deep within, I would rather just curl up and sleep the ‘sleep of the dead’. Coz where would I be without the little white disc that I trust to keep my pressure down when I’m stuck in traffic? Not in a very good place I assure you πŸ˜‰

You have a wonderful week People. Hopefully you’ll meet no jams (other than the edible kind!) and will need no chemicals πŸ™‚ unless they’re legal & the kind of spirits that keep you happy of course πŸ˜‰ Me…I’m look forward to my refreshing Gin & Tonic at the end of what I know is going to be a very long day!

Hurrah for the Chemicals πŸ˜€ πŸ˜‰