Breaking camp

Last night the offspring had to beat an unwelcome retreat to the bed upstairs. In dismantling her tent for the day yesterday she mislaid one of her tent's two poles. I was at work so know what ensued second hand but I gather the fruitless search for the pole led to her father losing his rag and the offspring being rather bruised (not, I hasten to say in the literal sense.) Now she's watching fellatio jokes on TV which is very nearly certainly something she shouldn't be doing. Yet according to her Rowan Atkinson is being silly, not rude, so I gather most of it is flying over her head.

I'm horribly hung over and sluggish today. I've done nothing but push a couple of loads through the washing machine. The floors are grotty, the bathroom demands vigorous scrubbing, the beds need changing and I can't be bothered. Hopefully this binge will come to an end soon. I much prefer not having a head full of cotton wool.