2012 — 7 September: Friday
It was obviously chilly overnight but is now sunny. It's time for my annual tribute of tax1 to that band of robbers in Swansea. Perhaps they could put some of it towards one or two of the potholes hereabouts?
Now, I realise spiders have to eat, and I tolerate some of them around the house as I like to think they may well rid me of moths and mosquitoes, but I could wish the upstairs 'Boris' lurking yesterday by the bathroom door hadn't chosen to weave his next net across the top of the stairs at head height this morning. He's now (safely) trapped in a roll of cardboard to think things over while I sup my cup and magisterially ponder his fate.
There's a walk to prepare for, and a lunch to be packed. Though not before a munch or two of breakfast.
Never having studied...
... (among many other things) Greek, I was unaware of the derivation of that lovely artform — sarcasm:
When I think about those ancient Greeks and the carte blanche they enjoyed to say horrid things to one another, I get quite jealous. For example: If you were strolling through downtown Thebes and you ran into a pal who was looking particularly soiled and unkempt, you might say, "Going somewhere special?" to which the other Greek might good-naturedly reply, "Oh! You and your flesh-rending ironic observations!" It's sad to think that such a remark would, in our squishy and oversensitive age, be met with accusations of "hating."
And I remain resolutely self-taught.
Where is thy sting?
I shall be avoiding Arizona. (Reason.)
[Pause, while I trot round 7.99 miles of Hampshire sun-soaked hills (all up, no down, if you ask me)]
Now (14:59) I shall have a quick shower to render myself more nearly fit for company before nipping over to blag a cuppa with Roger and Eileen. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that nobody has yet managed to "get" yesterday's Mystery Object. Personally, I thought it looked somewhat like chocolate cheesecake. And it's a bit sticky, too.
I seem to have made it through the day without any insectile unpleasantness, though I did manage to rub another blister, which is not one of Mother Nature's more charming designs. Boris, by the way, now faces a long trek back from the jungle up to the Alpine heights of my landing. Still, he may make it. While I was out on my own trek, Mr Postie kindly supplemented my entertainment options for this evening:
Of course, I've just finished watching the "Spartacus" prequel. Good timing.