This brief, two day summer was meant to end in storms so I put my boots out of the rain's reach.  At lunchtime it was too hot in the sun so I dragged the crippled table into the shade and watched  the only chickens I'm allowed to own not pecking away at the wasted rubber.

Things were confused and confusing at #25. Lizzie had rung to tell us that they'd left her in charge of a little boy who keeps going around fiddling with things and she was worried she'd get into trouble with the people who own the place.   

I was worried so went round.  I found Bobby reading an old tome of Winston Churchill's correspondence.  Lizzie asked me if her dog was really her dog.  I had to get to work but sat her down and told her that Bobby was her husband, her dog was her dog, her cat idem and she was in her house.  Bobby looked up, pulled a face and got back to his reading.

Jeez I'm lost....