Late late Sunday night. 4am. Still drunk and nose blocked to **** and not slept for 2 days. Aw ye canny beat it.
Sunday. Long lie in. Mibby a morning fumble. Stretched out on the couch all day scratchin ma arse after having a cooked brekkie made for me. Catch up on whatever shows we're watching or mibby stream a movie. Get a nice roast dinner made for me. MIbby nip out for a coupla pints in the late evening if ah can be bothered. That, my friends, is livin the ****in dream.
I like Sunday morning between about 05:30 and 07:30 when the kids are still asleep and Mrs Grove is probably still a bit pissed from her Gin & Tonic session the night before. That's when I can usually get fun time started without the risk of the weans walking in on us and while the missus, being half asleep, is more responsive to her natural urges. If I do well it might result in tea and toast in bed and a pat on the head for being a good boy. The down-side of the kids growing up is that they don't go to bed on time any more so an "early night" is never on the cards and by 10pm I'm not good for anything apart from snoring. Morning Glory happens more than Afternoon Delight these days. I am dreading my daughter asking for us to look after the grandchildren in future so that her and the hubby can "have a nice weekend away without the kids" because that is exactly what we do to the in-laws now and it is short-hand for "please take these buggers off our hands for the night because we are off to have Hotel sex which includes toys, lube, Viagra and shouting".
