There's been a run of crazy dreams ...
Last night I dreamt that I was at the Bath and West show, staying in a small chalet with my demented ex-Mother-in-Law, her son, my ex Crazy Tom, his girlfriend and my four cats (for some reason I had gained a tabby kitten).
It was a very uncomfortable atmosphere indeed, partly because the ex-MIL insisted that the only place the cats could eat their food was sitting in the sink and because she never threw anything away so the house was full of piles of old newspapers. So I walked out in to the garden and there, over the fence, was Lisa- who- I- used- to- go- riding- with- at- weekends and her brother- who- I- used- to- fancy- like- mad- but- was- too- shy- to- say- although- everyone- knew.
They were competing in a three day event and couldn't stop to talk for long.
So I walked along the track around the side of the place where the horse boxes were parked and I met a man with a beard wearing a ballet tutu and a surgical support truss, who turned out to be the new Doctor Who.
He had a chalet of his own, that was covered in rambling roses, and invited me in.
And there were all the other Doctor Who's, as they used the chalet to get to together every so often and have a break from time-travelling. I stayed there years, although my original love, Ballet Tutu Doctor Who couldn't stay on a regular basis because of fighting evil, etc. etc..
Nevertheless, we had a lovely little boy, without actually appearing to do anything together to make that happen *ahem*.
I am not sure what could be interpreted from this, apart from 'don't drink too much carrot whisky before going to bed'.
I have finally submitted the PAYE return to the Inland Revenue; however, I have just realised that I have submitted the wrong year. Oops. If you never hear from me again, it's because they sent the boys round and I am languishing in some kind of gaol for incompetent financial directors.
I think I am going to make some tea.