Andy's Glasses

So what, would you ‘estimate’ is a ‘proportionate response’ to the brutal (and if you want details, its all online, but you’ll need a strong stomach or a bucket) murders of 1400 people? Should Israel have simply gone ‘an eye for an eye’ and murdered 1400 Gazans? Randomly and with horrendous brutality? That would have been pure, but ‘proportionate’, revenge. Which really is not what this current assault on Gaza is all about. This is not for ‘revenge’. It’s about proportionality of intention.

Since its inception Hamas has had but one goal; the destruction of Israel, the death of all Israeli Jews and better still, all Jews in the world. That’s it. The statement, its in their charter, unapologetically. But it’s been a battle cry, a bold statement to rally the troops, mere words. ‘From the River to the Sea’ may sound almost biblical in its origins but it is the statement that Hamas wants all of Israel’s land, but none of its people alive. Which is why there is no current ‘2-state solution’, its been offered numerous times but always rejected by the PLO or Hamas.

What happened on October 7 turned this intention from rhetoric into stark reality. Leaving Israel in a truly existential crisis. Here is Hamas, murdering innocent Israelis, as always promised. Spurred on by a lifelong passion against Israel, armed and abetted by Iranian dollars and rockets, they embarked upon their lust for death. Which, if left, would repeat. As threatened. Leaving Israel no choice but to eliminate Hamas before it eliminates them.

Hamas is NOT ‘the people of Gaza’. It does not ever represent their best interests. It uses them as disposable, throwaway pawns in a PR battle against its enemy. Hamas murders Palestinians. The hospital that Israel yesterday demanded be evacuated has a Hamas command centre built in a tunnel underneath it. Not in a dark, dusty, muddy place but lined with concrete, carpeted, filled with computers and an arms depot. Rocket launchers are strategically placed near schools. If Palestinians disagree with Hamas they are killed. Thrown off of buildings. Hamas does not care about Palestine or the people in it, other than as their use in scoring points and garnering sympathy from naive imbeciles at the UN.

And from Jeremy Corbyn who yesterday demanded the end of ‘killing innocent children’. Whereas during all the Russian bombing killing Ukranian children, all he could say was: ‘the West must stop supplying Ukraine with arms’. He didn’t mention the Israeli babies and children killed or burned alive during the initial raid. Why would he? And anyway, the world’s forgotten the October 7 raid now, because other people are being killed by Israeli bombs. And that’s far more important. Far more inflammatory. Far more a worthy cause for marching, protesting and shouting ‘Jihad’ and ‘death to the Jews’ in Trafalgar Square.

What is really ‘disproportionate’ is the level of hatred that has suddenly arisen for Israel and for Jews. In Russia yesterday a plane due to land from Tel Aviv had to be redirected because of a group of ‘protesters’ waving Palestinian flags who broke into the airport and actually made it onto the runway ‘looking for Jews’. For a ‘pogrom’. Another pogrom. The Palestine flags waved here are now slowly being replaced by Hamas flags, Isis flags and all manner of other jihadi hate mongers. And the waving is not just by Muslims but by good, English Corbyn-types so easily and moronically led into anti-semitic rage. Of course ‘its not anti-semitism to be anti-zionist’, but when you only and ever protest against Israel and never when Syria murders 10,000 of its own civilians, or Russia destroys working schools and hospitals, then it kind’a looks like anti-semitism, smells like anti-semitism, as demonstrated by the United Nations so regularly.

I wish I knew what the answer was. But getting rid of Hamas (or the current incarnation of it, at least) is definitely the place to start. As many have said, but few have listened, ridding Gaza of Hamas would free the Palestinian people as well as safeguarding the state of Israel so that us Jews of the diaspora still feel we always have that safe haven should ‘the shit hit the fan’. Again. And currently, I’m not standing too close to any fans.

Happy Monday

A xxxx

I feel this burning need to talk about football. There’s so many other issues pressing down on me, but in times of stress, we all need some relief, some hope and, even, some joy. Because we came third in the rugby World Cup; winning it became a touch difficult after losing the semi-final last weekend, so third will have to do. So that’s fairly good. Then I watched as Harry Kane, who at one time played for Spurs, if you can remember those days, scored a goal yesterday for Bayern Munich, from inside his own half. One of the hat-trick he notched up yesterday. And there is no easier way than scoring that kind of goal to forever after become a ‘legend’. It happened when Beckham did it against Wimbledon, when he was so young he wasn’t even married to a Spice Girl. Nayim did it against Arsenal and never even met a Spice Girl. And Pedro Mendez did it for Spurs against Man United and… and… it was disallowed.

So then, wonder-kid Jude Bellingham scored twice for Real Madrid against Barca in the El Classico yesterday and one of his, although well inside the enemy half, was a thing of memorable beauty. And he’s only 12, been in Madrid about 3 weeks and reached legendary status on just about his first match anyway.

So England’s strike force is looking more potent than ever. Even if it’s not playing over here. Yet of the teams who are playing over here, we need to see who is the best, currently. And perched confidently, quite beautifully, and for more than just the usual ‘2 hours before Man City play’, sit my very own Tottenham Hotspur. Because after our win against Crystal Palace on Friday night (whilst I was knee deep in Japanese food) we went 5 points clear at the top and so will stay there until we fail to win a match. Though it must be noted that Arsenal won so reduced our lead to 2 points. But Arsenal’s win was tainted. I suppose they had to play Sheffield United, the team which defines the massive gulf between the Premiership and ‘the rest’, and who have amassed one whole point in their 10 matches at the top table, but Arsenal shouldn’t really be gifted points at this important part of the season.

Liverpool look like beating Forest, right now, but football is a game of two halves and they’ve only won the first one. The Manchesters play each other later today and Chelsea don’t count because they’re useless, a state which we hope will continue until at least well after next Monday’s match against Spurs.

South Africa beat the All Blacks in the rugby last night, to claim the title of World Cup winners by one point. Having won the last three games each by just one point. Leaving a trail of opposing kickers ruing any missed conversions or penalties. But that’s rugby. New Zealand down to 14 men because of a high tackle and that’s massively punitive and was duly punished by the relentless, formidable, quite outstanding but really quite horrible South Africans.

Spurs don’t play rugby.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx

I was so blessed this morning. I played tennis in the gorgeous sunshine (though a bit low, if we’re being picky, a bit ‘horizontal’ and in-yer-eyes) and as we were putting our racquets away, the rains started. We were blessed.

However, I’m a bit ‘off’ today. Woke up feeling a bit fragile, a touch shaky, a bit… nyeh. Never mind, on me bike, off to tai chi. Where I had ‘conceptualisation issues’ with putting spatial movements into how I’d thought them. Which is a bit of a problem when you’re trying to defend yourself from a jihadi with a knife. Even though he looked like me mate Mike holding a stick. My movements were somewhat uncoordinated. I was, in a word I rescued from 1972 and mention for historical value only: a bit of a spaz. Which translates into 2023 (bollocks-)speak, as ‘having a minor spatial disability probably relating to mental health’. But it was only (I hope) only temporary.

So I went and played my tennis, perfectly between the rainstorms, and found my coordination way below par too. Odd. I’m only 2 weeks older than last time I played but seemed 15 years older in performance.

I attribute this to last night. We went out for dinner. With Me Mate Dave. A different Me Mate Dave because we all have at least 5. And we went to MMD’s girlfriend and ate the most amazing meal ever. Literally. It was a Japanese meal of the most outstanding quality and content. Spectacular. Just before eating, as we sat, in Japanese style, around a central bar with the cooking and preparation done before our very eyes, I was going to make accusations of CULTURAL APPROPRIATION!!!, but realised she is in fact Japanese, so I’d need something else to upset my very delicate PC-meter. But then I started eating. And really, just carried on eating as our gorgeous cook just kept putting wonderful things in front of us and made, right before our eyes, the best sushimi I’ve ever eaten, and more, and more, and all manner of amazing and amazing-looking things to feast upon.

But that wasn’t the cause of today’s malaise. That was down to Me Mate Dave. Who purposefully and with malice aforethought, continuously and calculatedly, kept filling my glass. With Spritzers, then saki, then more saki, then a bit more, followed by shots of all manner of wonderful Japanese spirits, which he appropriated in non-cultural way from his partner and poured into my glass. All of which combined to remove this morning’s ability to perform hand-eye related movements. Which is pretty much all of them. He has a lot to answer for.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

Complete this well-known song:
“we’re top of the league, we’re top of the leaea-eague, Tottenham Hotspur, we’re top of the league…” (You complete it by repeating it non-stop until Saturday, depending on future results, but if we win on Friday… if we beat Palace… then it doesn’t matter what happens on Saturday and you can keep singing it FOREVERRRRRR).

I know, it’s a long season, I get that, and we’re still ‘early on’. But we’re about a quarter the way through. As someone who is happy with being top on week 2 because we’ve scored one more goal than all the 7 other teams who’ve won 2 games, this, 9 matches in, feels more like ‘the real deal’. So I’ve asked the Premier League if the season can stop now. And they said ‘no’. Therefore we’ll just have to keep winning. ‘It’s in our own hands’! ‘Ours to lose!!!’

I’m not under any illusions… ok, I’m totally deluded, but that hope, coupled with my sheer amazement at my team’s total transformation under Ange Postecoglou’s stewardship, in play but mostly in attitude, that I’m allowed to dream. Who said Man City HAVE to win the league every fucking year?

And just a note to our Home Secretary: there may be many meanings of the word ‘jihad’, everything from minor self-improvement to an all out declaration of war upon all ‘non-believers’, and you have to decide which is acceptable. Because the police can’t; they’re neither linguists nor so sensitive to the contextual nuances of the Arabic language. But its safe to say, such a word, when shouted, repeatedly, passionately by members of Hizb-ut-Tahrir, in the context of the current Gaza crisis, is probably nearer the latter end of the spectrum. As the word is always understood in the West because that’s generally the only context in which we hear it. ‘Holy War’.

Hizb-ut-Tahrir are not a ‘proscribed organisation’ here, like Hamas, ISIS, Al Queda, but they’re cut from exactly the same cloth and hence are banned in most sensible countries. And you don’t get banned for issuing public proclamations of ‘improving yourself from sin’. Especially if you’re doing it whilst screaming support for child-murdering terrorists.

So Suella, get your shit together, Babe, and sort out the ambiguity, its not the police’s job to make decisions, just to enforce unambiguous laws.

There ya go: the good and the bad.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx


We went to Birmingham yesterday. We love it there… Ok, no one loves it there, we went because there was a little mini ‘conference’ of a worky nature and that’s where they held it. At the National Motorcycle Museum, which is the coolest place ever, if you like motorcycles, and pretty lovely even if you don’t. It is, precisely, 111 miles from home. I checked. So I ‘filled up’ the car on Saturday night, giving us an amazing, totally sufficient with surplus, should be ‘relaxing’, 343 mile range. Holy shit! (My special ‘app’ told me, so I could check it without having to go out in the rain. Yes, I have an app!!) I may go to Manchester on the way just to use up some those excessive miles! And this is precisely why you buy an electric car. So you can sit smugly in the fast lane with the cruise control set at ‘69’, just for some added annoyance, and peer down your ever-growing nose at the polluters, the destroyers, the murderers of baby polar bears and those churning out all the shit that Greta Thunberg would hate. Then reality hit. Hard!

Well, its only ‘hard’ in an EV kind’a way, its not ‘hard’ like floods in Scotland, not ‘hard’ like losing the rugby, but its hard in a mild anxiety kind’a way. Because by the time I’d driven half a mile to Henley’s Corner, my mileage was down to 334. I quickly calculated, even though it’s not really a strong point, but I reckoned at that rate of usage, we’d need to charge up again at Mill Hill. Possibly Edgware. Oh no.

I needn’t have worried, by the time we passed Watford the initial ‘discrepancies’ seemed to have ironed out, the car picked up a few ions from the atmosphere or something, and we were back on some kind of schedule which would at least get us to Birmingham, if not further, the current exchange rate being 1 real mile = 3 electric ones.

We made it. Using up exactly half our miles. Which then begs the interesting question: is the next half going to be bigger/longer/better than the last one? WILL I MAKE IT HOME??? Yet, I was confident. I have no idea why because I know from bitter experience that if we ‘have to charge’ on the way home, that can be a disaster; a mission impossible, a tow from the AA, yet confident I was. And even though there was an accident at Rugby, and even though we crawled on the M1 for hundreds of miles (real miles AND electric ones), we still managed to arrive home with 48 miles left on the range-o-meter.

And for the first time in my life, I drove within the speed limits. Honest I did. Because if you go faster it uses more ‘lectric, so I set the cruise on 70 and sat there willing my right foot to stay where it was and not do what it desperately wanted to do.

The rugby was a tragedy. We were vastly superior to those South Afrikkers for 60 minutes. Then we weren’t. And then they were better and stole the game from under our very noses. I don’t know that I’ll ever get over it. But if Spurs win tonight and go back to top of the league (where we BELONG!!!) it’ll help.

Has there ever been a ‘better’ footballer in England than Bobby Charlton? Its a debate. You wouldn’t have the debate for Harry McGuire, Jamie Vardy, John Radford, so that in itself speaks volumes. But has there ever been a nicer player? A more gentlemanly player? For that, there’s no debate. RIP Sir Bobby.

Happy Monday

A xxxx

With all this war going on and Scotland washing away in storm Babet, we’ve almost forgotten two very important facts.
1. Proper football returns again after the poxy ‘international break’.
2. England are in the semi-finals of the Rugby World Cup!!! Tonight!!!

In the ‘other’ semi-final, the one good-thinking, right-minded, world-conscious Inglish people don’t give a shit about, The All Blacks thrashed the Argies. Not really a surprise in the result but a massive result in the manner and magnitude of the victory. Because the All Blacks, having appeared to struggle a bit, losing to France early on, not playing to their maximum potential, poor in form, suddenly showed everybody that this current team is worthy of the shirt. Oh. My. God, they’re worthy. Fast and powerful. Yet, as so often with those pesky Kiwis, amazingly skilful. You have to admire them and hate them, in equal measures.

But tonight it’s not about ‘them’. It’s England playing South Africa in an attempt to right the holy wrong which was the last World Cup Final when we lost to the horrible ‘Boks’ because… they must have cheated. Cheated us, cheated rugby, cheated GOD!!! There is no other reason they could have won that game.

And really, there was no reason they should have won last Sunday’s game against France in their quarter final. England had already breezed past Fiji in their own one, so we were just watching to ‘see who England were going to beat next week’. And with almost the same certainty that ‘next week’ has now arrived, that match between France and the horrible Saffers was possibly the best rugby match I’ve seen. But like ‘everrrrrr’!!! The final of the 2003 World Cup was brilliant but mainly emotionally because we won it. And it was against the Aussies. In Sydney. But last Sunday night was simply incredible. The first 30 minutes saw six tries, 3 each, with the French re-defining ‘quick’ rugby and yet unable to keep up such pressure without leaving holes, which those Boks flew into en masse. It was so intense I almost spilled my tea. Nearly fell off the sofa. I was THAT engaged. And South Africa won. By one single point. After 80 minutes of, basically, holding my breath.

But we can beat them! (He says with all the confidence of a young child standing up against a tank). And reach the final.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

And thus the world divided. After an act of the most savage, merciless and horrendous butchery since Srebrenica, followed by Israeli bombardment and blockade on Gaza, it is probable than not one person in the world has ‘changed sides’. Our preconceptions, our bias, conscious or not, endures. We make the events fit our own internal narrative, in line with our own sense of ‘morality’.

Jeremy Corbyn is a case in point. Possibly an extreme case but only in that he expresses his prejudices in public where most don’t. And he was one of the first on the bandwagon shouting about the ‘humanitarian crisis in Gaza’, understandable because it is definitely a crisis. Yet when asked about the 1400 people massacred by Hamas he was only concerned with the historical justification behind it. Thus for the ‘Gaza is apartheid!’ brigade, mass murder of a civilian population is NOT a humanitarian crisis. Killing of humans somehow doesn’t qualify. Tying up 20 children at Kibbutz Be’eri and burning them is not, for those of a Corbyn-type mind-set, a moral issue as much as the political issues ‘causing’ such a thing to occur.

All those people, worldwide, who actually celebrated the deaths of those 1400, from Sydney to Southwark, Wadi Rum to Westbourne Grove, are now screaming ‘humanitarian crisis’ too. Again, I have to wonder about the restrictive nature of their understanding of ‘humanity’. But they won’t change. As soon as ‘evidence’ appeared to upset the indignation about the alleged ‘Israeli airstrike on a hospital’, the message changed immediately to one of ‘FAKE NEWS!!!’, and American lies. Unlikely that those currently setting fire to Embassies in Cairo, Istanbul and Amman will suddenly start collecting funds for the IDF.

And I’m not likely to change mine either. I like a narrative which aligns with my undeniable prejudice, bias and beliefs. I see Israel as ‘the good guys’, I can’t help it. I know where their values lie, the national values, their version of ‘morality’ and it agrees with mine. I am not Israeli. I don’t agree with everything that nation does. Like I don’t agree with everything my nation does either. The difference is, I don’t get to vote there.

So why are ‘pro-Palestinians’ intending to have a protest march this evening in Golders Green? Protest all they like, the inhabitants of NW11 don’t get a say in what Israel does. Not the Poles who run the supermarkets there, not the Turks who have re-branded half the high street ‘Likya’ after their fab kebab restaurant. And not even the large population of Jews who have absolutely no influence on what our brothers in the middle east do. Is it once again conflating ‘Israel’ with ‘Jews’? If you hate one you should hate the other?

Yet its the others who intrigue me more. What those with no affiliation feel about the situation. And why anything ‘Israel’ is a red line with about 90% of people in Question Time audiences. Whether the wanton slaughter of 1400 innocents equates to the right to protect the remainder of your people. Whether the population of Gaza should be held to ransom for the release of 200 hostages. And more importantly, how big a part conscious or unconscious antisemitism plays in those decisions.

Happy Friday

A xxxx

Ok, I’ve managed to avoid ‘the middle east’ for a few days now, even though it is most of what I think about when I’m not engaged in some form of employment or distraction. Like taking Lila and Joey to school early today so they could get a ‘sibling’ photo taken. Ooooooh, that’s so lovely!!!! Because no-one ever takes photos of Lila and Joey otherwise. But this is different! This is… official!!!

So Israel had what we now call ‘a pogrom’, which really is exactly what it was. Hamas is not an army, as such, it is just a group of murderous scum intent on death to all Israelis, men, women, children, old people, anyone and everyone, 1400 of them. Then came ‘the retaliation’, or the beginning of it, where Israel surprised no one by bombing the shit out of Gaza, but, according to them, focussing on the Hamas hideaways, bolt-holes and rocket sites. Most of which are ‘conveniently located’ in or by schools, hospitals, mosques, nice places where ‘innocent civilians’ are bound to group. And this, combined with ‘the blockade!!!’ has caused massive discomfort to all of us. No-one mentions that the power, water and electricity that’s been cut off is supplied by Israel.

Then came the ‘hospital explosion’. Which was something of a game changer, in that it involved the rest of the Arab world who suddenly and understandably became involved in the protests and ‘acts of rage’. Because the assumption was that as Israel is raining missiles on Gaza daily, it must have been one of theirs that hit the place.

Either because I’m a prophet, a cynical bastard, or a man either with a wonderful sense of fair play, or possibly with such prejudicial bias that he sees only what he wants to, I said that I don’t think Israel did that. They would never blow up a hospital. Could have been a mistake? But their missile strikes are incredibly, frighteningly accurate. Whereas the Hamas rockets lose at least 25% in ‘failure’. Not failure in going off, but in reaching their targets.

‘Experts’ (and many true independents, unlike America, friend of Israel, all their work is thus ‘tainted’) have now seen that the explosion did not come from a missile or rocket in the sky. It was terrestrial. Either a plant by the other group of militant jihadis or a rocket aimed at Israel blowing up on take-off.

Oh that’s good. But only if, at heart, you’re a ‘supporter’ of Israel. If you’re not, then its all just ‘fake news’ and ‘American lies’ and look what those bastard Israelis did to this hospital, let’s go and set fire to a synagogue in Antwerp.

Basically, we use our preconceptions to fit the scenario to the best advantage of ‘our side’. And that’s not helped by the BBC, who have managed, in 10 days, to become the absolute enemies of both sides simultaneously. They described the hospital blast as ‘Israeli’ before there was any proof or even investigation, let alone a viable statement. They’ve since withdrawn that stance… about 60%. Sitting on the fence so that half of Upper Regent Street doesn’t get blown up.

As this ‘introduction’ has taken somewhat longer than expected, the actual ‘point’ I wished to raise will have to hold you in suspense and eager anticipation until tomorrow, for ‘part 2’. Cos I gotta pick the kids up from school.

Happy Thursday

A xxxx

So there’s good news, always first. And that is that my dodgy hip (I know you’ve been really concerned; I can tell by all your messages of worry, support and love! Yeah, right) is slowly but surely on the mend. I can think about wearing left shoes once more. No more hopping when it rains. I can get that shoe on which is massive progress, even without the steroid jab suggested by Dr Needle-in-your-fucking-leg. I have the power to self-heal. Ohmmmmmm…

And then, in a really great result, following my latest, NHS, post-60, compulsory ‘shit-on-a-stick’ test, I won! I don’t have bowel cancer. And apparently, reading between the lines, I was so good they want to repeat it in 2 years. So that’s great. And great that we have such things thrust upon us. #morescanning

But then it all went to shit. Not ‘on a stick’ this time, but metaphorically. As I claw my way heroically and stoically (whatever Mel may say) from orthopaedic woes, as I am declared to have perfect poo, the worst possible scenario comes to light.

I get a… Man Cold!!!

And that, as any man knows (women seriously have no idea of such suffering and hence can’t properly empathise or understand the sheer debilitation caused by this horrendous virus) that is a terrible condition. Terrible. There is no real known cure; it’s a virus and hence just has to ‘run its course’. But the symptoms can be mitigated somewhat. First and foremost by tea. Strong, sweet and very very frequently placed before the invalid. Also, although paracetamol doesn’t really work, watching rugby does!! It has an amazingly curative effect, sadly that only lasts 80 minutes (plus ‘red clock’ time) but with sufficient tea deliveries, it definitely improves body and soul.

Medical advice strongly recommends AGAINST the planting of hundreds of winter flowers we bought last week, whilst under the effects of any Man-cold symptoms. Unfortunately the ‘doctor’s note’ to this effect Mel thought to be fraudulent. As it was written on the back of last week’s electric bill. You have to try.

Garden looks fab. Rugby was fabber. I’m still bunged up. But ‘fighting it’ like a hero.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

A massive event happened in my life on Wednesday. Not, going to Brent Cross in itself, though appreciate that is a trip which, like visiting Mecca for the Haj, happens once in a lifetime (AND NEVER NEEDS REPEATING!!!), but the purpose of the visit: to buy a new ipad!!! Because the old one was… a bit old, ya know, battery needs charging every 10 minutes, but most of all; the keyboard was shedding its keys. And the main purpose of the ipad is to keep you, dear reader, informed and educated, not just because otherwise you are so totally fucking ignorant of virtually everything, but also to show you all how totally brilliant and wonderful I am. And with a keyboard and an ipad I can do that from anywhere in the world. Only this month, according to my ‘Google Timeline’, I have visited places as afar and remote as Acton AND Watford. So as I do this for you, would you please each send me 300 quid for the new one.

I brought it home, turned it on, dreading that moment when it wants my ‘Apple Id’ (not a fucking clue) or my ‘password’ (no idea), my ‘cloud location’ (wtf?) or any of the myriad other questions tech companies use to torture us with. Yet all it actually said was: ‘bring your old ipad close’. Oooohhhhh…

And it started to suck all the info from the old one, as if by magic, or osmosis, or by some force of atoms which only the Apple Corporation knows about. And I was seriously impressed. Thinking: now I know why everyone loves Apple stuff, they make it easy, seamless, painless and just intuitively straightforward. Bless Steve Jobs’… errrr… Bless his remains, I s’pose.

Then it stopped. Just ‘hung’. Oh. I called the support line, was told, sometimes it can take a bit of time. “Its had 15 hours; that long enough???”, as I’d left it overnight to do its thing only to later realise it didn’t know what that thing was. I did a restart, I went ‘back to factory settings’, so far that it starts to talk in Chinese when it comes back to life, and I did that three times. I went back to Brent Cross; the DOOMSDAY SCENARIO, came home and still it faltered and engaged in fuckage. I called Apple again and after about 6 hours, one game of tennis and lunch in between, and three different nerds, it has now reached the point where I no longer think “why did I bother?” But instead am ‘enjoying‘ the new gizmo… lots. Even though it now looks the same as the old gizmo, other than a few swishy bits, of course. And a new keyboard with all the letters rather than just ‘some remaining’. I even have the same photo of Lila greet me when I open it. This one. Which I’ll leave because firstly I love it and secondly because changing it will involve another call to Apple and, quite frankly…

Happy Saturday

A xxxx