In which PuffyFingers drops me in it...

Imagine the scene: 8am on a Saturday morning. I got into bed at 3am. I've been sick, not just for Scotland, but for the entire of the United Kingdon. The phone rings. I hear PuffyFingers answer it.

PF: "Hello Grandma."

I think: Bugger, I forgot to phone my Mum and Dad to tell them how the injection went because of the daycare debacle.

PF: "My finger is totally better. It doesn't hurt at all"

I think: Excellent. If only I didn't feel so ill I'd be happy.

PF: "But Mummy is ill"

I think: Oh bother, that'll panic her. Where's the OH? Why isn't he grabbing the phone?

PF: "Yes. She drank too much alcohol last night"