Why we aren't spies

"Maybe you want haggis for breakfast - variety and mystery in one meat! And maybe a little self-deception too, if you believe the tales of the haggis-beast." Jonathan

Uh-oh. Nobody's told him haggis-beasts are for real. See? I found a picture on the internet. I think they have long hair like those highland cows, to keep them warm in those long cold winters. A similarity with Scottish cattle would also explain why haggises don't taste good: I definitely don't recommend hamburgers in Scotland. (Though pretty much everything else we ate was wonderful. Except the Chinese food.) But that's by the by.

In other news, we've been discovering just how much we converse at night when one or the other of us isn't actually awake. Several times Jonathan has given me the equivalent of "yes, dear," and rolled right over. I hear that I greeted Jonathan when he came to bed last night, and thanked him for getting up to take care of Meg. I have no memory of this. At least our automatic response systems are polite.

And probably we shouldn't take up espionage anytime soon!