manning the guns...

Skipper still lame this morning, though perhaps not quite so bad. Taking medicine like a trooper. I am filled with a big ball of rage and hatred towards responsible neighbours (most unlike me) and there's a hard lump of ice in my chest where my heart should be when I think of them. Hoping to calm down slightly in next day or two, or else I will burst. Must be hormones or something. Childishly flicked the finger at their windows as I passed to the salt mines this morning. Pathetic or what? But made me feel a bit better. Eldest son working on salt mine laundry yesterday (there is absolutely tons of bed linen - 100 beds or thereabouts), and he looked up and said, "I think this one is covered in coffee, or something brown and sticky anyway, I've sprayed it with liquid soap, what do you think it is?" My rather more jaundiced and experienced eye saw straight away that it was not coffee, but something far less appealing - oh dear, he was most distressed! Apart from that bed, this week there is nail varnish on two sheets (why, why?) and the usual circular yellow staining. All the result, I think, of too much sun, sea, sand and seaside beer.