Where’s my breakfast?

Robbie turned up at the lounge window this morning asking for his breakfast. Finally had a decent night’s sleep but it seems I’ve managed to pick up Dad’s lurgy so was late going out to feed the birds. On top of that, in the middle of cooking a Sunday roast, I went out to the garage and slipped and fell, cracking my head on the door frame, scraping the length of my forearm and buggering up my ankle. I can’t put any weight on my foot and I think I may have broken a toe. So I didn’t get round to making and blipping an Advent Wreath on the first Sunday of Advent, as I do every year; another first. 

Thank you for your recent kind stars. Will sprinkle stars before I head up for another early night.