Sometimes it's good to get cancelled

I should've been in Sunderland by now, reading through Bryan Talbot's latest (I am Bryan's offishul prufe reeder, which - despite ironic misspellings - is a thrill almost beyond measure; I love getting to see these things in the making, and even having a teeny-tiny input into them).

But he's adding a couple of last-minute pages, so it isn't quite ready yet; which is actually nothing but relief to me, despite I've been looking forward to this for weeks. For I am full of plague, and quite revolting. Not quite ill enough to cancel on my own behalf, but very glad to find myself cancelled. I really did not want to go out of the house today, and now I don't have to.

So: as "I didn't go to Sunderland today" is not much of a post, here's a picture or two. Ah, how they help me, these boys...














...And now, because I barely slept an hour last night - what with my own plague-ridden restlessness, and Mac's need to be snuggling, and Barry's snoring - I am going to declare an early end to this wretched struggle-to-work, and read book instead. Book good. Alas, I am out of lemons (on account of not having been out of the house today, on account of being sick, which is why I need lemons), but still. Book good.