Getting in a quick whisky while I'm boiling the potatoes to mush. Brilliant. No need to mash them. All that pointless physical effort saved.
The garden looks a bit dull. Just like my senses, after that rather stiff Laphroig.
String alert! I told you it was coming. Execute string manoeuvre no. 21. I repeat, Execute string manoeuvre no. 21, now!
Have to make the gravy now. Back after some turkey scoffing.