The Hot Drinks Minefield

I take Doggo out and reluctantly drive in to work. We're out tonight and it means I'll have enough time to get the dogs on the park first.

L says she can't remember much about last night, apart from being disgusted at how much wine we left in that bottle. Phew, I think I got away with it then. Her complaining about leaving wine is a bit of a turnaround, she's normally complaining that she's drunk too much of it.

Making hot drinks for people is such a minefield. L, for one, is very choosy about her tea and doesn't usually let me make her one. On the other hand, she likes the way I make coffee. I make a drink today at work for someone who I don't usually make one for and he asks for one and half spoons of sugar in his decaff. Now to me that's an awful lot of sugar; it looks a lot on the spoon too. I wonder if he means one and half heaped or level? If it's heaped that's even more. Can my conscience cope with being partly responsible for his premature death? I compromise and give him one heaped.

It's in the news that mother's who push their daughters to achieve in higher education produce daughters who feel in control of their lives and have greater self-esteem. Hope that's right and Daughter sails through her exams. Apparently, there is no such link for boys...

L emails to say she's doing the lottery this weekend for the first time in ages and tells me that she has every intention of winning. Hmmm, so does everybody else. No, she assures me that it's our turn this week. So, I log on to Wiggle and start pricing up my new bike.

In the evening, we bus back over to Derby. We have 40 minutes to get drunk in the Flowerpot before we meet some friends for a posh meal in the European Restaurant, where we'll be elegantly sipping a bottle of wine between the four of us. Thankfully the 4.8% porter is still on but hang on... just as I'm about to order it, L points out that OMG, the legendary Snecklifter is on too. A hasty change of plans and three drinks later, we did mix and match a few beers in the end, we stagger down to the restaurant.

The meal is excellent and there is even time for swift nightcap in the Royal Standard before getting the Red Arrow, or rather not getting the Red Arrow, home. Apparently, it's broken down and won't be coming. They advise everyone to get the next one, which is in an hour and ten minutes. Cheers. We hop on the slower but much earlier R4.