There She Goes

Dropped Mrs Smith off bright and early so she could get the train to York, then the train to Liverpool, followed by the train to New Brighton.

She’s now safely at her sisters, sipping Prosecco in front of a fire and catching up with Cousin Dorothy.

I’m sat on the sofa, eating pizza and watching the international footie. I’m trying to work out why the Pug barks at the telly every time Gareth Southgate is on the screen and awaiting a call from Joe to pick him up from Sophie’s.