With Looney’s gracious support, and in spite of Jean’s healthy scepticism, we can now safely assume that ‘Bier’ – by virtue of it being at end of a request to a waiter at your average Oktoberfest - is indeed a verb.
The cat – opportunist swines that cats are – is back after a week’s absence. However, the apple of my eye I have not heard from since he called me at 1700 hours BST yesterday which makes it about 22 hours. He and his friends were heading off into the New Forest to drown their sorrows as to celebrate their last official day at sixth form college. Hope against hope I HOPE that they won’t have drowned in a puddle of beer. Am already planning funeral. I tentatively suggested that instead of finding himself and his head resting on an ant heap this morning he might like to take his tent to overnight. This is where it becomes complicated for a mother’s weary head and heart: ”No, Mama, no point taking the tent. It’ll just get ruined in the mayhem.” As assurances to his physical well-being go I feel like a lemming ready to jump.
Update a few minutes after I send above, and before you try to think of how to word your condolences: Apple of my eye just phoned. He staid at a friend’s parents’ mansion at edge of New Forest and enjoyed - I quote – “a luxurious guest bed room”. And here I am slumming it and at least two of my hairs gone grey in the last few hours. U