It's good to be home though. I'm being a naughty boy and sitting on the sofa because I'm sick of lying in a bed. I know. I'm a rebel. Liz keeps fluttering around like a great blonde butterfly, asking me if I want to do things, or if I need things. And I'm being remarkably difficult. At least I'm aware of that! What I want to do is sit right here on the sofa and forget the last two weeks ever happened.
What are the chances of that, do you suppose?