We were in Kew Gardnes this morning, feeling a little jaded after much walking about. I may have been complaining about the lack of coffee, my son about the lack of not being at home, causing my husband to say, "Come on now. No moaning Minnies, tired Tims or weary Willys."
My nine year old starts to giggle.
"Weary willys and tried tits?"
"Not tits!" we both shout. "Tims."
We did reach coffee eventually. Sadly, it wasn't good. Why does a place committed to conservation and all that only have milk in stupid tiny plastic pots? What's wrong with a jug? If I had more about me, I'd start a campaign against those milk pots. Maybe there's one already which, with even less about me, I could join.
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