Weekend news grumbles

Forsooth and verily I say good morntide, and most gracious of welcomings to thee, great companion. On this brisk, yet Springtide promising, dawn of a Monday morn. (Sorry, I can't keep the whole medieval chatter going. It's far too long winded) How are we all anyway? Good and pleasant weekends were had by all I trust? I am sorry of course if you didn't and it turned out to be a bit of a mare, but look on the bright side if it was, it's over now and you can concentrate on making the next one a humdinger! (Gorgeous word that!).

Of course, we all know who hasn't had a good weekend don't we! The poor Queen! Now I don't know about you, but it seems to me the entire news over the weekend and indeed still this morning has been "The Queen has got the squits, and she's 86 you know!" Now, I'm sorry, and please don't think of me as uncaring, because I do love the squidgy little Queen, even when she's wearing her Grumpy Cat face at public engagements. But do we really need to know Her Madge has got the bum grumbles? I'm pretty sure that the poor Queen must be feeling mortified that the news seems to be broadcasting the fact every hour on the hour and talking about it at some length!

Obviously I can't speak for all 86 year old ladies, (Frankly, it would be weird if I could and would require a lot of planning and organisation and almost impossible to achieve) Sorry, I digress (AGAIN!). I can't speak for all 86 year old ladies, but I'm pretty sure that very few of them would actually like the world to know they're suffering with the old bottom rockets. I know the Queen has a slightly different life to most 86 year old ladies, and if indeed this bug turned into something life threatening of course we should know, but all the time it's just virus thing, surely it's far less degrading to just not mention it. Like I said, if it did turn into something more sinister then by all means inform us of her well being and at that point you could even mention that it started out as a tummy bug, but the need to keep on, keeping on about the poor womans bum juice is just not very kind. LEAVE her alone! Let her get over it without broadcasting it to the nation! Oh and get well soon, your Royal Madgeness.

Sorry Monday morning moan is now dealt with! Phew! Deep breath in . . . hold it . . . and breathe out . . . and slump shoulders and relax. There, time for a slurp of coffee and start doing my Monday bustle I suppose! Toodle pips!