Sting in the Tale

There I was, sitting at breakfast, browsing through the quality press as ever and considering whether I should indulge in a bit of panic buying of fuel, when I got a stab of cramp in my foot. I wriggled my toes but the pain just increased. Eventually I reached down to massage my ankle, and there was a ginormous bumble bee sitting on my sock busily stinging me. Yaroooo! as Bunter used to say. Why would it do that? And I like bumble bees. So unfair.
So off I hobbled to get down to the coal face and get the epoxy mixed. Later took in game of footy at Tynie - rubbish first half, better second and we 'ran out' three-nil winners which called for a couple of beers. I see the Diggers are advertising Veuve Clicquot at £35 a bottle which is very reasonable indeed. Having signed up to a trip to Hampden in a fortnight on the famed Diggers bus, we decided that we'll have a bottle in the unlikely event of winning. Else, it'll just be back to the bitter.

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