De Bagged

Hello my friends...
despite the fact a nasty virus has wiped my hard drive which means I have lost the 10k words of my book forever and in doing so have learned the valuable lesson of saving stuff to disk - just in case a nasty virus coughs up all over your hard drive; I am in my local library Blogging away.
I have been bypassing this place for a few weeks as I recently learned one can re new books via the phone and the kids are still on holiday. This is the longest 6 week holiday I have experienced, maybe since I have had a fair bit of time on my hands I am taking such unnecessary observations to the brink surely these poor little buggers deserve a month and a half maybe more to bug the pants off their parents, childminders or unsuspecting members of the Council Tax paying public.
Which brings me on nicely to my main reason for my bitter ranting today.
It was going to be a fantastic red wine fueled Friday with my dear friend Victoria, and it was. That was until the wine, vodka, peach schnapps and any thing else I had festering away under the kitchen sink which was slightly alcoholic (mind you I did draw the line at the Toilet Duck)was necked. Once the stark realisation of the lack of alcohol lingered long enough to render us sober enough to brave the 24 hour garage we decided that we needed milk, as the only other form of liquid stimulation which was left was coffee. As usual I had no milk so the trip was scheduled and our military style operation 'Garage-a-Thon' was penciled in.
You may think that there is no planning required for such a short walk at midnight to the top of my road. However due the vast amount of alcohol consumption the fact I had been gardening all day and was in dire need of a shower some sort of order was required. I quickly showered and donned the comfortable option of Adidas trackie bottoms, pink hooded top and a beanie. It goes without saying that my Birkenstock sandals were on the plates (of meat = feet((Cockney Rhyming Slang)).
We were off. I was slightly concerned I had wet hair but thought the beanie would curtail any of the old wife's tale of 'catching your death' of coming true.
A quick game of knock a door run, or knock down Ginger was proposed by Victoria, but I reminded her of my age and even though she is slightly younger at 25 advised her that it probably was not a great idea to start instigating some enraged household with a view to having to leg it - Birkenstocks are not the preferred running shoe, as I discovered in Rio (see blog entry http://frombarnsleytobrazil.blogspot.com/2005/01/what-shenanigan.html - Please note this is my best mate's blog site - I went to Brazil with her this year and she tells the tale of the night we had to leg it from some very angry bar men - while wearing Birkenstocks).....
Sorry for this break I have run out of time on this PC but will reveal all tomorrow - Literally as you will soon discover!!
Jo x