Well, It's beginning to feel like the storm may be ending. I'm feeling a bit more like myself and I have a new dose of herbal tinctures on their way to promote robust health, vim and vigour (ha, bloody ha).
The scabby chicken is growing back her feathers and the dog, who nearly popped his clogs earlier in the week, is sitting up and taking notice of a lightly boiled egg thanks to medical intervention and over £300 of veterinary fees. The Credit Card company are still bastards and I'm still very muddly but shall never make the petrol/diesel mistake again (hopefully) now that I have taped a huge yellow sticker inside the fuel cap which says (DIESEL NUMPTY !) in big black letters. The insurance company are also still bastards and trying and trying to get me to see some other trick-cyclist but I am not being persuaded to don any trick-cycling-clips for the time being so they can go and rot until I have prepared another diversionary tactic.
NOW, dear Reader, despite the upties and downties of the past few weeks your very own Cusp hath not been idle for I have been busy with needle and thread and sock and crafting more Sockee Monkee. One of them was before Xmas and commissioned by a glamorous young woman in the most select environs of the Scottish capital.
This Sockee monkee is an alien monkee who has beamed down from another sphere. His name is Splod and he comes in peace and is in need of succour and shelter until he can return whence he came.
As he has found a home with two delightful children near Scotland he shall no doubt be introducing his fellow aliens to haggis and a wee dram in the future (it'll be a long, long, long time in Earth years since one Splod year equals one Earth century so the dear children will have him to stay for as long as they want....or longer if Splod likes them: you do all know that Sockee Monkee never know when to leave or shut up, don't you? Honestly, you could put on your 'jamas, switch off all the lights and be half way up the stairs to bed before some Sockee Monkee would even notice you were gone, as they natterchattered away)
More recently another child who lives mid way between here and there was heard to cry
'...and what about me.....Where's my Sockee Monkee ?'
and so, after the Festivities, out I went straightway, hotfoot back into the shed to create another little Sockee chum to join the throng.
His name is Sabian and he's a Skater Dude
--'grind those rails, bro....'
In truth he's a little wayward but basically he's a good kid and needs someone to show him the right way. I knew just the fellow and his Mum. They are very, very nice people and know how to make very nice jam so I feel quite sure that Sabian's new housemates will provide the sort of stability and conserves that he needs and that they'll all complement each other wonderfully.
If you meet these good people, please don't tell them about Sabian's midnight forays into the fruit bowl, will you? When he was here we came down one morning to find banana skins all over the kitchen floor and wheelie marks on the lino. I had to make him promsie he'd never do that again before I sent him off to his new home.
(If there are any spelling misatkes here please forgive me. My brain is still Numpty and Bloggers spellchecker will not work ~~~ that's my excuse anyway ;-))
If you meet these good people, please don't tell them about Sabian's midnight forays into the fruit bowl, will you? When he was here we came down one morning to find banana skins all over the kitchen floor and wheelie marks on the lino. I had to make him promsie he'd never do that again before I sent him off to his new home. 
