Well, while the cats away...
Andrew, it appears, is visiting up North and they don't, apparently, have the Internet that far up the country. Something to do with underdeveloped limbic systems and a weakened national grid system, although I am led to believe they do have park and rides in some of the more progressive areas. So I have taken it upon my very elegant person to stand in as Guest Blogger this evening, and do a Day (whack-a-do) 179 (whack-a-day.)
Reports are that Andrew has been running up and down a variety of Lancastrian hills doing star jumps in front of the sunrise. It's all very New Age and tasteless if you ask me. You'd never catch a star like ME behaving like that in public. But apparently he has been eating deep fried fat covered in triple chocolate sugar (they have to in the North to keep the cold at bay) so he needed to perform extreme exercise to keep his weight steady. I never have to exercise. I have the hips of a racing snake and the appetite of a picky ant.
Today he moved on to Shropshire where the internet access is marginally better but only if you stand on a ladder and wave your dongle around. I didn't like to ask. I said, 'Andrew, save your dignity. Have a biscuit and a bath and let Kenneth do the blogging.'
There isn't very much else to report, I'm afraid. Apart from his Herculean effort to lose weight whilst training for the Great British Bake-Off, and holding down a job as a vet and being an obsessed Doctor Who fan, Andrew does very little with his life. Still, Christmas is coming so things might perk up.
I have to go now - my falafel are burning.
It's been charming. I think.
Kenneth (The Real Star)