2007 — 19 July: getting off to a sluggish late start

I guess I always knew there would be days like this. I have to say I don't seem to get any time for boredom these days!

Somewhat disturbed night of rather broken sleep for both parties. Too hot; too cold. Take the quilt away. Can I have the quilt back? You know how it is... Unassisted, too, by the noisy little moron1 whose waves of self-satisfied ("let's wake everybody up") rebellious youthful delight were almost tangible as he revved up his under-powered scooter and roared off through the neighborhood just as the birds were kicking off their chorus lessons shortly after 4 a.m.

My neighbour Peter harbours dark suspicions about a) his coming from the local preferred glue-sniffing spot down by the railway bridge (judging by the detritus he's seen there) and b) his riding, two-up, and quite probably without benefit of paraphernalia such as crash helmet (judging by the revving of the "stinkwheel" engine, as such they are known in certain quarters). I reserve judgement.

Breakfast beckons the male

It's already after 10 o'clock. The entire first batch of meds safely onboard after an initial minor glitch over a too-early cuppa which, as it were, made the return journey in mild protest. Start with the anti-nausea next time, you idiot! (I'm referring angrily to me, lest there be any doubt.)

She's just won another £50!

Thank you, ERNIE! And her chum Heidi has cooked up, and is delivering as I type, a batch of freezable soup etc of just the sort She likes from "back home" in the Motherland.2 Brilliant!

Doing exactly what She likes best!

Life goes on, even in our back garden.

Christa and the corkscrew

See two shots of my beautiful Girl here. Taken a few minutes after noon today.

You know you're getting old when... department

You quite shamelessly enjoy a peaceful afternoon nap, on the bed no less, with your best (actually, the "nest" I initially typed would have been just as appropriate, come to think of it) mate. Now we're going to go off for a gentle toddle (on foot) round the local estate to keep things jogging along nicely. What a life, heh?

We managed to walk as far as the Central Precinct (not Ed McBain's 87th,3 but not too bad) but just missed catching Mr Fishy Co (who had cashed up for the day) and then, after our supper, we trundled gently around the whole of Trevose Crescent, briefly calling in to say "Hi" to our friend Mary. This was, on balance, a good (albeit, tiring) day. Final sets of meds, and we're going to call it a night, in fact. Just as the rain is finally starting.



1  Technically, I agree I cannot be certain of the exact value of the young gentleman's IQ; I just call it like I see it.
2  Technically, "Muttiland" has a nicer ring to it, don't you think?
3  Which I'm told Steve Bochco may have borrowed from in formulating what was to become that excellent series "Hill Street Blues" in the very early 1980s. I've never read any of McBain's tales, so I don't have an opinion.