How Thoughts Of Nina Disturbed My Sleep
Sunday afternoon I was in the small drawing room studying the inside of my eyelids as The Dambusters played on the television. Todd having joined his great dog in the sky above I thought it only fitting. The Lidl Lebensraum Chicken had been roasted to perfection but the gravy had disagreed with me. It being the season of jollity the children had been using the flour sifter to dust mince pies with icing sugar, I hadn't realised there had been a substitution and had tried to thicken the meat juices with it. Not good. But the bottle of Empire White was very good.
So all was as well as can be expected, when the youngest Englishette leaves her television in the other room and crashes into my reverie and without a word turns the radiator thermostat down to zero. "Nina says you should turn them down and wear thicker clothes" I was lectured when I remonstrated.
My thoughts about the BBC's Nina aren't suitable for a delicate audience, but in a charitable mood I could forgive her a little indoctrination in return. It is a small price to pay, maybe, for the publicly funded electronic babysitter, without it I would get no peace at all.