The wireless stopped suddenly. I set it going for 90 mins. Perfect timing, switching itself off just before thought for the day. Must be an inbuilt talent.
I strolled out onto our landing to the following tune: There’s a bright golden haze in the garden, a bright golden haze in the garden, the leaves are as high as an elephant’s eye… Well they aren’t really. I just wrote that for effect. The morning sun shone brightly on the empire of THG reflecting off, and highlighting the need for action on the growing layers of dead foliage. Red and gold.
At breakfast THG mentioned that she had a voucher for money off 4 pints of milk at Waitrose and that she would buy some this afternoon. Send my regards to Daisy, I said, or Buttercup or whatever was the name of the cow giving up her milk that we may eat Weetabix. Probably number 3642 or similar. Has the dairy industry lost its sense of identity @Chris Conder? Bring back Buttercup and Daisy.
THG suggested I live in a fantasy world of my own. Probs. Somewhere to retreat to. Disappear. Disappearing Davies.
My golf was again terrible yesterday. I can’t follow through with iron shots. Too stiff man, too stiff. Despite this I did win the longest drive and the front nine, the former being only because none of the others managed to keep their ball on the fairway, a prerequisite for that prize. We finished just as the sun had set over the clubhouse, parked out trolleys and went in for a beer. We left in pitch darkness resorting to the torchlight from our phones to get back to our cars.
After I got home THG went out to a fashion show at the drill and I ordered and consumed a beef curry with fried rice from Pang City, delivered ahead of schedule and eaten in front of Reacher S1 on the telly.
Anyway gorrago. I’m at the NLW in Aberystwyth for three days next week and have lots of prep to do. Ciao amigos.
…
Fox back again on his daylight travels. Ten o’clock ish. 10:54, I just checked. Also stopped by the lake the other night for a swig.
