58 hours later . . .

And I finally managed a poo.

I weighed myself at 196.2lbs, had a poo and then hit the scales at 195.5lbs, one porcelain press-up later.

However, learned friends, since chez Manley looks pretty much precisely like this at the moment, I thought that I should warn those of you I work closely with, those of you with children and Dave, because he loves family guy. Also, being an the attention whore, I thought that I'd tell the world, (or at least my couple of thousand readers, all avidly avoiding work), through the medium of blogging.

Everyone seems well when they are not actually puking, (indeed, after dealing with distressed children and buckets of hurl until 0430hrs, I am a little irritated that the wee darlings are now tearing around the house and stuffing their faces with cornflakes), but it's seriously unpleasant when they are and my poor washing machine is fit to burst with bedding.

Anyway, just a warning and a morning track which, since I was going to the Wurzels tonight, before they moved it to the Longbrook and the kids began projectile vomitting, is 'Morning Glory' by that self same band of Somerset fools.


A policeman's lot is an exhausting one.