Who’d have thought one would see anything more out of the ordinary in my street than a man in a hospital gown?
Well, how about a dog on a drip?
While speaking on the phone with my eldest daughter, outside my local (no, I’d not actually been drinking), I noticed a dog walking down the street. Its owner was carrying a drip which was attached to the animal.
Fortunately, the vet was within a minute’s walk. For the average dog.
I’ve not been home long after childsitting; my eldest grandchildren. The wearher out there is foul, so my walk from the bus stop to our house was brisk. My focus was on returning home before getting too wet. Which is probably how I almost didn’t notice the woman in a nurse’s uniform, walking up the street. Or the fact that she seemed to be escorting a man. He was wearing only a hospital gown.
Fortunately, it would’ve been a short walk to the hospital.
Although my second in command (and me too, after some arm twisting) had decided to give Glastonbury a miss this year, following a conversation with Karl the other night I decided to drag myself out of bed early this morning and try for tickets for next year’s festival.
I thought that perhaps God should make the decision for me\us.
And so the annual fun started at nine this morning.
And ended in a half hour.
I guess God didn’t want us to go next year. The bastard.
Seriously though, I feel weirdly OK about it; not remotely disappointed. I know there’s the resale in April, but I don’t think I’ll bother with that. So it looks as though we might be pushed into trying something different after all.
Having missed a bus in Washington this evening, I decided to kill time with a quick beer in the Oasis; a decision I instantly regretted. It’s without question the vilest place on earth
My next door neighbour is singing. He does that a lot.
All I want is black bean soup, and you to serve it to me. I recall an episode of Starsky & Hutch, from around 1975 or ’76, which involved black bean soup. And a little song about soup. Now, I know that I should feel a modicum of shame, but I was an impressionable child. And, of course, I was only two or three at the time.
Anyway, when in Liverpool a few weeks ago, we bought some cartons of black bean soup from a most unusual shop. When sober, the soup didn’t seem very appealing, so it’d remained in a cupboard following our return home. However, after a long day in London, I decided to try some.
I used to own a couple of Kirkland signature shirts. I say used to because they perished during a wash with my second in command’s chef whites. I’ve since bought another, but don’t often wear it because it’s not as non-iron as I’d believed. It’s quite nice though.
I mention the shirts because, as I opened a carton of soup, I noticed that it too was branded Kirkland signature. I compared the carton with the label in my shirt and they were identical. It seemed unusual at first that a manufacturer would produce both shirts and soup, but, in my experience, the two do often go together.
The soup was actually ok. The heap of pepper I’d added seemed to help.
Or bang. I was woken from a very nice, snug, sleep a few hours ago, by a noise. I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d heard, but I knew it’d been loud. My second in command I bravely investigated in darkness (the power had gone off) and found that the (bargain) charger I’d bought on ebay had exploded. Maybe it wasn’t such a bargain after all.
I’ve just slept for 15 hours, quite possibly my longest sleep ever. Because I have a weird cold (that’s a cold, not flu) which, apart from the usual symptoms, has made me crave sleep. But, since sleeping’s quite a nice thing to do, this isn’t the worst virus to have.
I had a text from the company I used to get my new/old pair of wire-rimmed glasses glazed, today, asking me to call.
When I rang they asked whether I’d sent two pairs of glasses, but only received one back. That was the case, but the other pair were sent only so they could measure my PD.
After confirming this, they explained that the other pair had been reglazed in error. I’d assumed that they’d binned that pair. Anyway, the outcome is that I get another pair of glasses for free.
It’s just like a lottery win. Kind of.
Despite living on a busy main road, with several pubs within a couple of minutes walk, I’ve found life here to be less hassled than living on an estate. I’m a week or two away from living in this house for ten years, but the the only crime I’ve come across has been:
– a couple of pubs with window related vandalism.
– a stabbing outside one pub.
– a road accident involving someone fleeing an altercation.
Now, these aren’t all exactly minor, and I’ve almost certainly mentioned one or two at the time, but only the last one could really be described as a reasonably serious crime. Well, it seemed to involve assault and robbery.
Last night, I woke (barely) around 3:45 (I’m guessing, since I didn’t check) and could hear a heavy duty truck engine outside. Assuming it was a rubbish collection, I dismissed it and nodded off again. I woke again just after four and could still hear the truck. Wondering why it was still there, I took a look out of the window. It was actually a fire engine. I jumped to the obvious conclusion that someone had had a minor fire – I’d not been woken by sirens. So I closed the window and climbed back into bed.
There was no obvious signs of any external fire damage to any of the houses in the street when I left for work this morning, so i put it out of my mind.
Until my second in command told me that the Police had called this morning, asking if we’d seen anything. Or heard the explosion. It seems that someone had poured petrol over a car in the street and set it alight. Strangely, there’s nothing about it on the Internet and it wasn’t mentioned on local news (unless I missed it).
Stuff like that just doesn’t happen around here.
