Sharing a Cuppa

Hi, hi, c’mon in.
Let’s go straight through to the garden.  It’s lovely out there this time of day.
Would you like a cuppa or perhaps a Pimm’s, given that it is summer time?

How have you been?  Things here are getting back to normal, now that The Boy Child has returned from his stay with Granny.  You might have seen my post about how much fun he had.  Did you stay with family members during school holidays when you were young?
Are you going away on holiday this summer?  We are, but we broke our original idea down into three short trips and I am looking forward to the first one beginning at the end of this coming week.  Of course I have a mini scrapbook planned; how well you know me!  Tell me, do you prefer the beach kind of holiday or are you happiest in a city?
How about that tea now?  Or can I persuade you to another Pimm’s?  I’m sorry that there isn’t much in the way of treats to offer you; both The Brainy One and I are attempting to cut back on the amount of snacking we do.  And the easiest way to do that, I find, is not to buy or bake the treats in the first place.
What was that?  How are my sister and family doing?  They’re doing really well, I think, although I’m sure they will feel much more settled once they have found a house of their own and move out of company housing.  I’ve never been more grateful for social media, the invention of Facetime (despite the awkward time difference) and the Royal Mail!  Did I tell you that we have sent them their first Red Cross parcel in the form of chocolate?
Predominantly of the Cadbury’s kind.
Obviously.

Let me see if I can stretch the tea to a top-up.  It’s funny how we continue to drink piping hot tea in the middle of summer, isn’t it?  I did read somewhere that tea and coffee are actually more refreshing that cold drinks, but I have no idea if that claim is true or not.

The Boy Child is none too keen on my insistence to make the most of this weather by being outdoors as much as possible.  When he was younger, he would walk a mile or two without a hint of a moan or whinge.  These days, he’s moaning within 10 minutes of setting off.  Does that come with age, do you think?  I’m pretty sure it’s not a trait specific to autism.  
I can hear the boys at the gate.  They’ve been to The Boy Child’s last swimming lesson of the term and I’m pretty sure he’ll be brandishing another cloth badge and certificate.
There’s no need for you to go; we’re having a BBQ supper and I’m sure I can find you a burger or two.  No?  Ah, well, maybe another time.
Same time next month?

This post has been brought to you by Abi’s invitation to share a cuppa.
Summer 500: 391