Had a wonderful dream last night. I was back in the Victorian times when seemingly the 'biscuit with tea' craze was kicking in, however whenever they were served together tea was spooned onto the biscuit rendering it soggy and difficult to eat. Being the eccentric chap I am, I showed them the novel idea of dunking your biscuit into the tea, at first folk though I was mad but then it was slowly beginning to catch on. Just as the smiles erupted I was woken by a very crude rendition of 'I Don't like Monday's' On the piano downstairs as Mark decided to try his hand with some loud music to wake everyone up. I was mere moments away from getting a biscuit dunking Nobel Prize in my dreams but sadly I was just a man-child contorted in a sleeping bag.
No matter though, I needed to be awake to face the day and to re-visit the Bristol Museum of art and natural history with Mark and Lucy to get out of the house. When we got back they made a hasty departure since Mark was running a tad late for a bowling game and I hastily made my way to the DVD player to get my fix of The Wire which is almost impossible to watch if it isn't shown in 4:3 aspect ratio I discovered.
Now I've had my din-dins and am tucked away on the top floor of a very tall house wishing I hadn't read so many 'Creepypasta' stories yesterday before house-sitting alone...
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