hot arabian nights
I strained my ears. The last of the paparazzi had left some hours before. The house is strongly fortified, so I don't know what they expect to get, but every day they come and every evening we can hear distant strains of "nyeugh neyeugh nyeugh" until they go click clicking home. So, I wasn't expecting to hear much other than the girls snoring and the boys whimpering (and a rather strange gurgling from somewhere dr rob insists is a "special" place... I call it the bog). But there it was. The distinct sound of an iPod and little white speakers... playing Rimsky Korsakov's Scheherazade.
And then a rustle in the bushes... near the mini blog-flap...
I fell asleep not long after. I wasn't keen on seeing anything that would compromise me in the morning.
I am still stuck to the sofa. But I'll have to wait for help with that.