2010 — 19 September: Sunday
Yes, well, erm. Better make that two episodes of "West Wing"1 — and now for some sleep. It's 00:39. G'night.
Breakfast to eat, petrol tank to fill, lunch to pack, cartons to fetch. Better get moving. It's 09:02 and a tad cloudy out there.
OK, scratch the cartons until later this afternoon — the 35-minute round trip wouldn't now leave me time to get over to Mike's for our rendezvous. But the petrol tank is now full, and it's even looking slightly sunnier at 09:54. Nearly time to depart.
7.5 miles later
Shower? Check. Laundry? Check. Cuppa? You betcha!
It's 15:34 and I have a filmic date back over in Winchester later this evening. Next task: bring back another ten cartons. No rest for the wicked. [Pause] It's 16:39 and I'm now prepared to swear a mighty oath, Christa. The next time so much stuff moves out of the house, it will be over my dead body. I have 48 cartons still to bring back — here's hoping my back survives. No work on the Sabbath on pain of death, heh? Those were the days.
Mike's just sent over his photos from today's walk, including the oddest sign I've yet spotted — we saw three examples of it within 100 yards or so.
Meanwhile, I now know what my new water softener sounds like as it goes through its "regenerate" cycle. It displays a countdown timer, too. You could say it has a brine of its own, I guess.
Having been re-reading a "Comics Journal" May 2002 interview2 with Dylan Horrocks — an interesting artist from NZ with a Dad I feel I can relate to — here's his current website.