2008 — 22 August: Friday

Already it's just gone midnight and the day later is looking nearly as busy as the last two. I'm on the hook to deliver Bro to a hobby shop in West Drayton somewhere in the vicinity of Heathrow (useful practice, I guess) followed by lunch at my sister-in-law's brother's place in High Wycombe. Dammit, I was never this busy at work!

I have a reader who asks where is "Shed City"? It was the nickname Christa and I assigned to the shopping area bounded by Staples, Boots, Mothercare (and, latterly, by Borders, not to mention the Ikea that is now rising skyward). Another reader lambasts me for being late with a diary entry; I trust I've now mollified him. A third is curious to see Bro, so I present this particularly flattering perspective view of him among his newest toys, making a mess of my living room:

Bro and his new toys

More later, but sleep beckons. G'night. But (I ask you) is there anything more annoying than a bloody Richard and bloody Judy sticker stuck onto the front cover of yesterday's delivery of a paperback — point being, the sticker, when carefully removed, still leaves behind a residue that makes it necessary to clean the glass plate of my flatbed scanner with some of my ever-diminishing supply of methyl alcohol from the Neue Apotheke run (at the time) by Wilhelm Götze in Meisenheim? (The question is purely rhetorical, Christa.)

Still, listening to the other delivery is having the desired soothing effect. And there are a couple of bonus tracks from the 1973 album Freedom is frightening too. Excellent. G'night (again) at 01:09 or so. Or should I describe Bro's method of stacking washed dishes to dry? Perhaps better not. Makes me look like a professional, I tell you.

Earwiggo again

It's 09:02 and time to fire up the horseless chariot for today's misadventure. At this rate, I shall top 10,000 miles before I get shot of bid a fond adieu to Big Bro. Mind you, he's got to return to Chile in three weeks time — tee-hee. The latest grand scheme is for me and the cousins to descend on his little gentleman farmer's cottage immediately after Christmas. I shall see if he remembers that discussion once the dopamine rush from his new toys has faded. He's currently trying to figure out how to convey them back to NZ, undamaged, in minimum volume of luggage to avoid checking them in.