therealpm: (Bercow incoming)
Received confirmation that I have been removed from the no-fly list. Welcome news, albeit delivered within one of the most patronising letters I have ever had the misfortune to receive.

Corfu beckons.
therealpm: (Confused)
*Peter groans as he wakes up: his arm, though now free of the IV, still feels cramped and sore. His brief elation at remembering his newfound freedom is tempered by the sight of an 'innocently' smiling Miles sitting next to his bed, cradling a steaming cup of tea. He sits up and a brief struggle ensues, with Miles crying indignantly for Peter to get his own cup before eventually relenting and handing his younger brother the mug. Peter nearly scalds his mouth as he gulps the brew down greedily, though he only manages half a cup before his stomach protests and he begins to feel sick.*

You took your time.

"Your minion only phoned me last night. Look... Peter, if you're going to do ridiculously stupid things like turn yourself into a mythological creature or stand for Parliament, you could at least keep me informed."

I didn't turn myself... and I can't believe you're still harping on about that. I told you, I was very busy, and I-

*His sentence is cut off by a tactical hug from Miles.*

"Anyway, I had a chat with John and that DEFRA person last night.  You're all clear to go home, which means I'm taking you home.  To Asby."

*Peter's protests are cut off by another hug*

"You are not well enough to stay by yourself, and you are not staying here.  I've already packed most of your things.  Once you're ready to go we'll get you dressed and wheeled down to the car."

...I want to take Jack.

"Fine.  The dogs could do with more company anyway.  Who's taking care of him at the moment?"

Fiona and Alastair.

".... never make things easy, do you?  Fine. We'll stop by theirs and pick up Jack.  But that's it."

*They bicker for a little longer as Peter slowly finishes the tea.*
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