Queenie went out last night and had a few pints to mark the last night of being able to smoke in the pub and needless to say the pub was packed so she crawled home too late. And all day today she had a headache. Until she left work at four o'clock, whereupon the headache miraculously disappeared.
Which just goes to prove that it is work that I am allergic to and not too much alcohol.
I always knew that.
Anyways, on to critter talk and then we will be done with it.
Himself shot Mr. Buck through the lungs the other night with his Swedish early twentieth century sniper rifle and now we have a freezer full of venison.
So there. No more critter talk, there's too much death in it.
Tragic perhaps. Yummy definitely.
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