s t r a n g e cousin susan

D’ya remember the hope, nay, the promise for real content, maybe even Real Content tonight?

Ain’t gonna happen, although I feel as if I could stay up all night. Must be the cuppa I’m working on. Iced coffee, natch. Or, as the sister would describe it, coffee mate and sugar with a splash of coffee for a wee bit of color.

However, in the spirit of preparing for this auspicious and delightful return to real blogging, I have grabbed the audio of Bar Code Girl singing a wee sweet lullaby and shall post that tomorrow, or whenever the spirit moves me to get this Real Content Post underway.

And since I am obviously not prepared for the Real Content Post just yet, I’m going to wander away now and write the scene where Liz in Cambridge rings the Brigadier in London and asks if what he had in mind for her study happened to be the room that overlooked the garden in the backyard, by any chance.

He’s asked her to move in with him when she returns to London after divorcing her lout of a cheating bastard husband, you see.

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