I write to you from the confines of my rather steampunk "robofoot" cast, after I took a tumble at the football on Thursday and bashed my ankle up something propah. I've been put on a steady regimen of drugs and no exercise, and will surely lose my mind before long, but it could be worse - at the doctors we met a guy (also called Freddy) who had just broken his arm in a freak go-karting accident which was live-streamed on Youtube, making my mishap seem quaint by comparison.
Despite being in the wars we've had a few people round over the weekend - one of Gaby's recently-graduated mates came round to give her a crash course in masters etiquette and a perspective from the other side of the dissertation-related craziness; and on Sunday we had a family BBQ, the leftovers from which I am still making my way through.
Otherwise I've just been crafting TWO compilations (two), and being "de bode" (literally, "goat-like"), which means sulking around at home instead of heading out. Soon I will be up and about, hopefully with more Travelling Spoon assignments, etc. 'Til then,
The weather in Vladivostok is very clement this time of year.
You are not Fred Squirrel?
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