Cave men, clothes airers and phone boxes

I lay in bed awake last night. Must have paid a visit or something. It was dark. I lay there thinking how cosy it was and wondering what it must have been like to be a caveman. Were cavemen cosy, between their bearskin coverings? Did they have the modern problem of nipping to the loo at night in the dark? Dunno.

When I finally awoke, as the tea was being delivered (result – I thought it was my turn but no) the Today Programme was talking about phone boxes and asking listeners for their phone box stories. I have one.

When I were a lad I used to play sport after school. I was variously in the school teams for rugby, cricket, hockey and golf. Probs something else as well but I can’t remember. After we had finished training or a game my mam and I had a routine. I would wander down to the button of Bray Hill and call home from the phone box at the bottom. When mam answered the pips would go and I would hang up. This was the signal for mam to come and get me. It was a three mile drive and she would be there in ten minutes or so. Saved me two pence. Result.

This is not an experience I have in common with cavemen. None of the aforementioned sports had been invented when they were around. They were mostly into chasing after food, I’d imagine with the occasional arty type daubing the walls of the cave.

I doubt that cavemen had problems with their clothes airers either. The rope on ours periodically breaks and it chose this morning to do it again just as I was en route to the shed. There was a cry for help from the utility room. Should be relabelled futility room because I couldn’t immediately do anything as I was en route to a meeting. It has been decided that the fix will wait until tomorrow.


30 days and counting

Was roused from a pleasant doze at 07.15 this morning by a call from a South African number on the mobile. I rejected it obvs even though being from South Africa it was likely to be a customer although spam was a possibility.

A WhatsApp message then came through from that self same customer. They are now 2 hours ahead of us of which the lad was unaware. I draw the line at taking calls when I am in bed.

Good swim this pm although only got 30 mins in compared to 40 yesterday. Need to start setting off a bit earlier so that we are in the pool for 3pm and can maximise our time spent ploughing. Or furrowing. Whatever floats your buoyancy aid.

Always feel good after a swim. Always feel good after a bowl of cereal for breakfast. Always feel good after a quiet night in and early to bed. Now there’s a message there somewhere innit 🙂 Can’t spend (all) our lives swimming, eating cereal and having quiet nights in. How does that stack up with the hedonistic lifestyle I should be leading?

Watched a documentary about artists and the Cote d’Azur. Tres interessant. In it the presenter describes very wealthy people, some of them artists, who lived decadent lifestyles. Made me think of the cost of doing this. 

Such individuals for example would think nothing of traveling on the Venice Simplon Orient Express, a snip for only £3,615 that includes one night onboard and presumably assumes two sharing a cabin. Must be one hell of a night. Doesn’t feel worth it to me so the money has to mean nothing to those shelling out for the trip.

What would everybody do if we all had more than enough money to pay for all our needs and wants. They would have to put on more Orient Express trains or at least more carriages. Longer platforms! Build more luxury hotels etc etc etc.

When I started to talk about cost I didn’t really mean the cost in money but the human cost. Lives shattered by the abstraction from reality. Destroyed in the continuous search for gratification, fulfillment maybe. 

Can’t believe the Cote D’Azur has the same allure nowadays. In my limited experience, mainly of hitch hiking there as a student, I associate the place more with traffic jams than an idyllic environment designed to attract artists. No different to parts of California such as Malibu really. Areas feted as places you would want to live. 

Mind you I have spent some time at conferences in the South of France. My recollection of these events is somewhat hazy. Something to do with the decadence, hedonism associated with life in the internet industry? Champagne lifestyle? Surely not!

Only 30 days to go until trefbash 60. A quiet affair is planned. A few friends and relashuns invited. It’s all relative innit.


Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

I realise that Christmas is still a way off but I thought it worth getting a letter across to you early this year in case you are having logistics problems in the warehouse. Elven driver shortages and so on.

My request this year is in my mind fairly simple but I have no idea how much back office work it might involve at your end. It isn’t quite as simple as wanting a few pairs of socks which might actually be affected by the global container shortage. The concept however is easy enough to get your brain around.

All I want for Christmas is world peace, climate change reversal and to know in advance which horse is going to win next year’s Grand National. This is a winning combination. World peace would mean the freedom to travel anywhere without having to worry about local wars, insurrections, piracy (presumably) and border restrictions. Climate change reversal would mean we could enjoy the wonders of our planet wherever we ended up going and winning the Grand National would mean we could do it all in comfort and style. Like I said, simples.

The camel train to Iraq might prove to be a little uncomfortable. We would have to make sure there were plenty of cushions and carpets to go around. The idea of diving amongst the resuscitated coral reefs in the South Seas is very appealing. Easily reachable from the jetty near the villa in the gardens of the hotel, natch.

I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. Being a man of the people my request for presents is, except for the Grand National bit, for us all so feel free to come up with your own ways of enjoying them. Iraq would face a shortage of camels if everyone wanted to do the same thing. 

As far as the Grand National is concerned if we all bet on the same horse the odds would disappear so I’ll keep that present to myself thank you very much. After all it isn’t unreasonable that everyone gets something personal that is just for them.

Anyway whatever you want for Christmas the big day will come quickly enough so I’d advise getting that letter sent. Just be sensible in what you ask for. If you ask for too much you might end up not getting anything. And remember there is a shortage of truck drivers, food, rubbish toys that looked great on the telly but will only get played with once, CO2, chefs, carers, bar staff, fruit pickers, oh and common sense.

Tref (I’ve been good all year) Davies.


PS Hope you don’t mind that kiss kiss kiss ending. Not trying to send any signals here. Just rolled off the keyboard.

PPS Can you bung some socks in as well please.


don’t be blue

It was long since ordained that Sunday mornings should be a time of rest. Relaxation. With that in mind I tuned the sonos in the living room to Classic FM only to discover I had arrived in the middle of an ad break. For KFC! Did I hear that right? Fortunately calm has now been restored and I am listening to a bit of Dvorak. Aahhh.

There is a small espresso at my side, fresh off the stovetop and I have time ahead of me to indulge in the required restorative inactivity.

My use of the “Living Room” Sonos speaker was not straightforward this morning. Not compatible with the relaxation it was meant to facilitate. Turns out the Sonos S1 Controller on my macbook needs upgrading to S2. However the upgrade button doesn’t appear to work. I had to resort to using my phone which is fine but it isn’t really acceptable that the laptop version doesn’t work. 

Further investigation has revealed that Sonos don’t have a Mac version of the S2. Hmm.

All appears to be well in the Davies world. I’m not taking into consideration any “external to the bubble” factors here: global warming, a corrupt/inept political elite, food shortages etc. Two of us are up and at it with the third still sleeping off last night’s rum tasting evening at the cricket club. sfine.

In the news this morning is the death at the age of 64 of UB 40 singer Astro. People come and people go and after the flurry of interest has faded away he will fade from our memories but for the moment we think of him, and his family. The issue for me is that he was only 64. Time was, admittedly when I was so much younger than today, 64 was a long way off and not an unusual age at which to die. Now with only a month to go to the big one (oh no six oh!) it is quite a sobering thought.

It makes sorting out your life plan all the more urgent. Mine includes focussing on just doing stuff I enjoy. This means no stressful work and a concentration on creative projects. Easy really. This Christmas will be a watershed.

I’m quite looking forward to my 60th birthday. I really enjoyed my 50th which felt more like what 40 was supposed to be. I have a couple of big parties planned, one, trefbash60,  in London at the usual venue and the other at home in Lincoln. If you are coming to either I really look forward to seeing you. 

It’s the first time the date for trefbash has coincided with my actual birthday. It’s a terrific gig and I typically only remember who was there because we have a photographer which this year is going to be Paul Clarke again. The theme is Pirates of the Caribbean. Better start thinking about your outfit.

Outside, a colour laden washing line sways gently in the breeze. Important to have colour in your life. Don’t be blue or grey. The exception to this is my friend Martin Levy who carries grey very well. Only wearing grey makes choosing his wardrobe easy and his outlook is far from grey.

I am pondering a change in direction with my shirts and jackets. This isn’t one to rush into but I feel a simpler style might be in the offing. We shall see. It may be that the shirts and jackets I seek may not be available in the shops which is not that much different to half the ones I already have so maybe that doesn’t matter. You will find out when I find out.

In the meantime there are pictures to put up and garlic to be planted. It is Sunday morning after all. A time to get the jobs done 🙂


Of cereal and salmon

A sloe start tue the day. Bowle of serial with fruit and now sat lukeing at various webbsights. FIrstly tonight’s duck recipe hasbeen sorted as ha tomorrers pork casserole.

Sorry I can’t continue like that. Takes longer to write. I’ve checked out various recipes and looked up food carbon footprints. I’m not sure what the right answer is but I need to lose weight so I’m just going to cut down on the quantity. That is the theory anyway 🙂

Also looked at ground based heat pumps and I suspect it won’t make sense for us. We are however sticking in double glazing on all our front windows. The ones at the back have been done already – the back of the house is south facing and gets all the weather. So hopefully the addition of better insulation at the front will not only make a difference to the warmth of the house but also cut down on our use of gas. Might also find a cover for our open fire, or make one.

Will be investigating the carbon offset schemes suggested by some Facebook friends, particularly to compensate for our use of petrol and diesel.

Couple or three jobs knocked off the list that if they were going to be done today needed doing this morning on account of the quality afternoon of sport ahead on the digital display.. Garage tidied, cardboard boxes shifted and replacement bayonet light bulbs fitted. Garage apart these aren’t big jobs but if they aren’t on the list I don’t notice that they need doing. If I lived alone in this house it would soon degenerate into a tip. Next up I need to head to the Rose of Waite for some essential supplies: caviar, kumquat and oysters. Only Joeking. Innit.

Shopping shopped, bacon lardons bought together with a few other bits for the weekend meals and some wild pacific sockeye salmon that was on offer. Waitrose has a plethora of smoked salmon offerings but none of them really fit the bill. It all appears to be farmed stuff otherwise the packaging would say. The pacific salmon has a better texture than the other stuff in my mind but comes with the baggage of lots of food miles. Feels a tad incongruous.

Consider the nature of the fish. Swimming happily in the Pacific one minute quite pleased with itself for avoiding killer whales and dolphins and the next minute caught, smoked, frozen and stuck in the hold of an aircraft. Ah well. Might try sourcing some decent Scottish salmon.

early one morning fusion


Big end of season golf tournament today. I sat “big” but there are only seven of us. It is a big day out. These midweek days out are the best, when you would normally be chained to your desk, or tools. We are a mixed bunch: a plumber, water consultant (who knows?), NHS manager, mechanic, educational sector business development, a gentleman of leisure and me.

Our common denominator is that we are mostly ex rugby players. I say “ex” rugby players but reality is you can never be an ex rugby player. A rugby player never hangs up his boots. It’s just that the gap between games gets longer. I’m currently at 12 years, a mere pause.

The weather today is going to be dry but cold. 9 degrees celsius with a North North Westerly. A good wind if your destination is the Azores but a cold one if you are playing golf. I’m sure it won’t be as bad as I make out but it is the first cold snap of the season and a reminder of the winter ahead.

You know when winter is a coming when you have started making arrangements for the festive season. The parties that were put on hold are being restarted and there has even been talk of Christmas presents in the Davies household. Still plenty of time but all I can say is don’t leave it until Christmas Eve like I did one year with disastrous consequences. Also when you both agree that you won’t buy each other a present this year just ignore it and go ahead and buy her one anyway because she will definitely be buying you one.

It is ridiculous that deciding what we want for Christmas should ever be a problem which it always is because we don’t really need anything. In fact we are not wanting for anything either which I accept is a very lucky situation to be in. The electric bike I’ve just splashed out on is in theory a joint 60th birthday and Christmas present to myself but in reality I’ll want something to open on Christmas Day and it ain’t going to be a bicycle pump.

I will be content with everyone having a relaxed and happy time. Last year we all got together against government guidelines and had our usual family Christmas albeit without the traditional carols at the Morning Star and our Christmas Market Party which had hitherto gone uninterrupted for over thirty years. I’m sorry Boris but there was no way the kids were staying in their pokey flats in London for Christmas and you had anyway by then lost all vestiges of credibility when it came to covid rules and example setting.

Last year was important because it was our last Christmas with Dad who passed away during the summer. I kind of sensed it at the time as he was getting increasingly frail with lots of needs. We had a good time with him and had lots of cuddles and I’m sure he enjoyed being with us. This will be our first Christmas without both sets of parents which I am sure Anne and I will dwell on for a while. 

It reminds me that we have a fairly huge task ahead of us in the need to sort out some of mam and dad’s effects. I’m talking photos, letters and other important family mementoes such as mam’s nursing qualification certificate. My idea is to scan all these in and keep them online in a family archive. The nice surprise was in the number of letters we have to work through. People don’t write letters like they used to and fortunately mam kept them all. 

I have a plan to write letters myself but it hasn’t got very far yet, entirely due to the speed at which I can put pen to paper compared with the “lightning” flow of my fingers across a keyboard.

This Christmas should represent a watershed in that I have determined to stop full time work and to focus on doing things that I like. This will still involve some work but only doing stuff that I enjoy. Anne’s Vans is also going to take up more of my time which is really cool. It’s such a lovely business to have. When returning customers thank you for the fantastic time they have had that is really uplifting. Lots happening in the Anne’s Vans world which I’m sure you will find out about soon enough.

One of the side effects of the growing success of the business is the need to move our holidays from the summer to either side of the season. This isn’t a hard and fast rule as we fortunately have Coops our mechanic and business partner to fill in any gaps when we aren’t around but it does mean we are less likely to spend long times away during the summer period.

That said we are off to the IoM TT Races this year and the Euro-IX get together in Tempere follows on directly after that. I’m really pleased to have been invited to Euro-IX. We will also miss the start of the season because of our big trip across the pond. 3 ½ weeks or so taking in tobago, Miami, the Big Apple and Boston. A great itinerary but one that will test our constitution with all those hotel nights and dining out. I dare say you will see lots of pics from the trip.

The other big trip already in motion is to do a month following the rugby in the South of France in September of 2023. We are planning to go in one of the vans with occasional breaks in hotels to recover. Already have some match tickets for Nice. Cmon Wales, and Italy for those are the two games I have tickets for and I have already invited an Italian friend. We haven’t figured out what to do about the vans for that month yet but there is a scenario where we only hire to people wanting to take them for the whole month that we are away. We shall see.

Time to make the tea and to upgrade to Monterey 12.0.1…

early one morning miscellany

the simple life

The milkman came at 05.15 this morning. I know this because I was awake and the bedside alarm  clock read 05.20. I had finally remembered to change it to GMT last night before nodding off and it gains 5 minutes every 6 months. We should get a new one really but it has sentimental value having belonged to Anne’s parents. The switch away from daylight savings was just that, a flick of a switch, or the push of a button in the case of our clock. The resetting to an accurate time is a little more effort and was not done on this occasion hence the 5 minute mental calculation.

This isn’t a biggie apart from the fact that every month or so I have to add a minute to the calculation. Daft really. We should get a new clock. This one is fiddly but yanow what it works, ish. It’s probs not enough of a hassle to merit wasting the planet’s resources on a newer clock.

We waste too much. When the kids were small the amount of packaging that would need to be put out for recycling after Christmas Day was ridiculous. At least nowadays the presents can be transferred between bank accounts online! 

When you have busy lives it is too easy to be wasteful. I quite like the notion of being more sensible with our resources although I do need to apply myself a lot more to the concept. It is far too easy to spend too much on food when going to the shops, for example. We don’t really need those bottles of wine, or maybe not need ones quite as expensive. 

The simple life has its attractions although I have yet to try it out. It is in some respects boring. A few years ago I did sober October with Steve and Rob from around the corner. For most of the month this was no problem. However the week at the RIPE conference in Amsterdam when everyone else was partying on expenses every night and I was on the sparkling mineral water was boring. Ok I managed sober October but concluded that a balance had to be struck.

As a footnote, on the last day of that October we had a big night out in London starting at the Rivoli bar at the Ritz and moving on to a posh night out nearby. Life is too short to do the hermit thing. Like I said it’s about getting the balance right.

When we stay in London as is reasonably often the case nowadays with three out of four offspring in residence there we have long moved on from staying in cheapo hotels. It’s more about comfort and experiencing the good things in life. Travelodge = crap mattress, Trafalgar = cosy mattress. Simples.

When it comes to hotels it is also about the quality of the breakfast. This isn’t a major issue but I do at least want to have a breakfast as good as I can make myself at home. This is mostly not the case in hotels.

This morning I’ll be having porridge oats with yo gurt and perhaps a banana. Never used to see the point of porridge but I do get it now. As long as there is fruit available to liven it up. We don’t always have yoghurt in but do right now. It’s worth making your own. Turns out much better than the regular stuff you get in the shops. 

This is the case for most home made food items although you have to work quite hard to emulate a decent indian restaurant curry. I’m really talking stuff like chutney, pickled onions, bread even though that can be hit and miss. The best home made bread easily beats the best shop bought bread.

Time to make the tea…

early one morning miscellany

The Petition

“Cognitive behavioural therapy pioneer dies at 100”. This is of course sad but he or she had a good innings, as we say. I cannot elaborate on that opening line. I only read the headline and didn’t drill into the article itself. Having told you I now need to resist the temptation to go back and investigate further. 

It is better thus. One of the many facts I will likely never know more about, unless it is covered on the news on the radio when my brain happens to be tuned in. I say this because we usually have the Today Programme on Radio 4 when we wake up but I don’t typically listen unless Anne specifically refers to an ongoing news item. The wireless epitaph of said pioneer might only merit a sentence fitted in before the headlines or the weather, just before the top of the hour. 

Most of us wouldn’t even get that. “Yesterday in the UK another thousand people died”. That would be about it. Matters not. Enjoy it while you can. Life that is.

There is a petition doing the rounds at the mo. “Save Bailgate Parking”. I signed it when there were only 12 other names down but now it is at nearly 500 which is good. At least me and nearly 500 others think so. The residents of the Bail who are trying to muscle in on convenient parking places mostly used by shoppers presumably don’t think the same way. 

Sympathise not. They knew the score when they moved in, unless they too are approaching their hundredth birthday and are able to claim that the traffic wasn’t so bad when they first moved there in 1937. I don’t want to appear ageist but I can only say that they probs shouldn’t be driving a car at their age anyway.

It was 05.30 when I woke up and got out of bed this morning. I had had enough kip, thank you very much, and felt able to ease gently into the day downstairs whereI would not disturb anyone else. Last night I did not listen to the news on the radio again even though it was on nobbut eighteen inches from my left ear. Instead I must have slipped gently off into the land of nod, presumably adequately tired from the efforts of the day.

Today I have one thirty minute meeting in my calendar. This doesn’t mean that I will let the rest of the day drift idly by. Nope I’ve got a lot of stuff to do. It’s just that it hasn’t been compartmentalised into time slots and stuck in the diary. 

Depending on the weather I think I might try and squeeze in a walk. This is something I plan on doing more of especially after Christmas when I will have throttled back a bit on the work front, hopefully. It is better to throttle back hopefully than to arrive. No that’s wrong innit. I won’t bother correcting it. You either know the right phrase or you don’t. If the latter, what you been doing all yewer life?

The concept of walking to the shops is a good one. Sensible. Currently I’m more likely to nip there in the car as it is quicker. Waitrose for example is 5 mins by car or 21 by foot, probably a little more for me as I am a slow walker. That’s effectively 45 minutes of walking to what might only be a five minute shop, although I don’t like to rush myself in Waitrose.

If I felt comfortable with using the time in that way it would be good. We shall see. I need the exercise. Let’s get Christmas out of the way first. Of course the weather ain’t going to be great in January…

It makes more sense to walk to the Bail. It has everything I need really including the odd cafe where I could if I so choose and didn’t mind being one of the few blokes in there, meet a friend for a coffee or for a spot of lunch. It does at the moment. Hopefully this sitch will continue if enough people sign the petition. Check it out here.


waking interlude

The long hair versus short hair debate did not outlive lockdown. Interesting how “the work” of months, nay years could be destroyed in a few short snips of the scissors. Mere minutes. A metaphor for life. But this is old news. Just something to get the keyboard juices going. A leaching of language through my fingertips to the page in front of me.

At the front of the house I just heard an owl. Presumably the same bird occasionally to be heard out back. I did spot one once sat on our trellis in broad daylight. Same bird, maybe. Wonder where it kips. An old oak tree in a field, the upper rafters of a crumbling barn, possibly.  Will it find a kill tonight. I guess the allotments are a good hunting ground.

This morning I am awake a lot earlier than has been my recent habit. I’m not sure you would call it insomnia. I got six hours. I don’t lie there desperately trying to get back to sleep although I do go through a process of trying to decide whether if I stay still I will nod off again. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes after I’ve take up the tea I doze a little. A good doze. Back to bed…


October Sunday

Relaxing in the front room to the sound of Classic FM. Breakfast has been taken and offspring 4 has gone back to bed. He came in last night at around 1.30am having been DJing at some club or other downtown. 1.30 is relatively early to bed for him on such occasions.

The day’s main objective is to unleash the chainsaw on the woodpile behind the greenhouse. We have a very nice wood store but much of what is there is far too long and is sticking out the end of it. Some judicious shortening will enable all the wood to fit in and create some space for me to move the oak logs recently acquired from Tom the Tree Man that are clogging up the path around the back of the shed.

Fear not I have the protective gear although I may see if I can find some contact lenses as my specs tend to steam up behind the faceguard that comes with the protective helmet. Steamed up specs are not what you want when cutting wood with a chainsaw.

I recall Sunday mornings when we lived in London pre kids pre marriage. We would head out somewhere for breakfast and sit around reading the Sunday papers. Do people buy a Sunday paper anymore? We rarely go out for breakfast nowadays. Never really unless we are staying in a hotel. I guess we have somewhere nice to live that is conducive to a pleasant Sunday morning whereas when we were young free and single ish it made sense for us to escape our respective garrets and find a comfortable meeting place for brunch.

Sometimes on a London Sunday afternoon I remember heading for the Bulls Head in Barnes which was a famous Sunday lunchtime jazz venue. Hopefully still is. We have a Sunday afternoon in London lined up at the end of November. Meeting some of the O’Rourke clan. Might look to see if there is any jazz on.


The written word

Upon my soul

When did you last see your father?

Wallop is a word with multiple meanings

In the chilly hours and minutes of uncertainty.

We certainly live in uncertain times but has it not ever been thus? 

Some people pray before hitting the hay. Pray before hay!  In my mind we should perhaps give thanks whenever we wake up as opposed to before we go to sleep although I guess there is no particular rule on what people pray for at any time of day. It’s either thanks for making it through the day or thanks for making it through the night.

The exception to this is if you wake up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep in which the phrase “thank you very much” may not be considered a genuine expression of gratitude.

I’ve never prayed for anything. It’s a personal thang. If praying is your thang then that’s fine. I do religiously listen to the wireless in bed, both at night and in the morning. Actually I don’t really listen to it. At night it’s there for soporific effect. In the morning it’s more about habit than listening.

Have you ever considered how the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle has affected your life? If you are uncertain as to the answer that is probably part of it.



Interesting that the “country needs an opportunity to let its hair down”. Note so does the opposition.

Interesting that politicians come out of the woodwork as football fans, make speeches about it in the House of Commons and wear England football tops newly sourced for the occasion. Don’t they realise the contempt this engenders.

Interesting to see the unleashing of a drunken nationalistic fervour.

Interesting to watch the periodic build up of hopes and expectations – beware they are mostly dashed in the final analysis.

Interesting to observe the lack of understanding when English people find that Scots, Welsh and Irish are ambivalent to the outcome of the final.

Interesting that cheating seems to be accepted as part of the modern game (they should introduce the sin bin).

diary early one morning

up early again

Up early again. The whoop of the wood pigeons above the back garden seems to be an ever present soundtrack. There is a gentle breeze out there under a cloudy sky but it should be warm enough and we will enjoy a weekend of pottering about after a seemingly manic few weeks.

The garden is about to start giving. We have a broad bean salad planned for tonight using the first harvest from our very first crop. The strawberries need attending to as a bird has already taken its fancy to the first of what look like many fruit. Wimbledon fortnight is about to start.

We have no tickets this year. Overlooked in the confusion of covid. This isn’t to say we have nothing planned for the summer. England v Pakistan in Cardiff is to be followed by a week in London and then later a few days in Caernarfon. Somewhere in between we have a graduation ceremony to attend and another son’s gig at the Shepherd’s Bush Empire.

We also need to try out our new campervan, the fourth in the fleet. This one comes in v good condition but needs a refresh to its interior. This will happen over the winter and in the meantime is for “personal, domestic & pleasure” as the insurance policy says.

The new van has not publicly been named yet although I do have a working name in mind. Still mulling it over. We don’t know where to go yet – just a weekend jaunt. We usually go away with our crowd of pals in September but nothing has yet been arranged. Also a trip to the Latitude Festival has been mooted but no decision made as yet and we may not go. My memory of our last attendance at that festival seems to be dominated by the appalling beer on offer. I didn’t even know they still made Tuborg lager.

The plan for this afternoon is to give the shed its annual wood treatment spray. I must make sure that I wear appropriate face protection as my visit to Clearview opticians last year around the same time revealed a film of the spray on my glasses lenses. Some of the stuff must have been inhaled and it killed off some of the lawn when I sprayed the garden furniture so not good. The lawn recovered as did I.

This evening is already planned out. Wales v Denmark. Should, unusually, be an exciting game as both sides played some entertaining football in their last game of the group stages and go into the game expecting to be able to win.


the rain that soaks

Ma gurd it is wet out there. The 

rain pelts down on the conservatory 

roof and I have to venture out

to get jabbed. It is good that I 

unblocked the drainpipe during 

the week just gone, the soaking

I received a mere splash compared 

With what would be were I to try it now.


suburban living

suburban living. sitting in traffic, timing your tedious journey to the valuable minute, squeezing every last second out of the trip. a five minute result. five precious minutes out of the ordinary. tired in no time, life ticks away.