There's things coming up in my rockery as didn't ought to. Them little green shoots got no business coming up this early. First 'ard frost of the year's sure to do 'em in. Why can't they be more like 'er? There's no getting 'er out of bed before 'er 'as to, blimey, that woman would 'ibernate if 'er 'ad the chance.
Quite right, too. Some of us are wired for daytime, and some of us are nocturnal like bats, badgers, hedgehogs, lemurs, and me. My brain (if I've got one) wakes up late. I've just beaten LYS at Scrabble and I wouldn't be able to do that in a morning. (I don't know, though. He's pretty nocturnal too.)
LYS goes back to Lancaster tomorrow. Ouch. I will miss his dry humour, his sense of fun, the razor sharp observances about politics and football, and his being such a warm, witty friend and good company. I won't miss his washing, but I do love having him around, socks and all.
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