The Bells Have Made Me Deaf

One major problem with living alone, after not previously living alone, is trying to get used to making home cooked things small enough for just one to consume in one sitting. Even after a second helping I’ve hardly made a dent in it. I now have two choices. Have it for breakfast dinner and tea for the entire weekend or fill the freezer with it and hope it tastes as nice nuked from frozen.

I’m having a digestive break aided by a large glass of wine, before I attempt dessert. It’ll give me time to ponder why lovely green limes seem to stay green in the supermarket but soon as you get them home then they turn yellow within hours. It’s one of lifes mysteries!

This was also the day the heating oil ran out. Why does it always happen at a weekend when you have to wait until Monday to stick an order in. I’m tempted not to bother at the price… it’s spring after all. Things should be warming up any day now.

January is always a slack month. People have no money to spend after indulging the god of outdo throughout December. On the other hand, January* brings unwanted gifts to eBay for cheapskates like me to indulge the god of almost necessary and come in handy.

In the past couple of weeks I have purchased 130 metres fabric, 1 monks bench (someones homemade effort), 2 staplers, 1 nail gun, 1 compressor, 1 pasta maker, 400 metres piping cord, 1 desk, 1 5pk of air tools and 1 jump start/compressor unit for the van.

I must try to steer clear of all bargains in the foreseeable future or at least until these ones have paid for themselves… heh!

*Yes I know it’s February already.

Offline eh? I can only assume that Method is the one in front with the phallic thing.
I wouldn’t trust him to walk behind either…

After two weeks swanning around the south coast of England, I seem to have lost the will to do much other than sleep. Today was my first day back at work and so far I’ve managed to skive the entire afternoon. Having completed a van run in the morning to collect supplies I conked out on the sofa at lunch. A half day to make up. I suppose it’s time to get started… well, maybe after dinner.

Still armed with just a phone cam, this is the best I could do. Spot the climbers and win a major prize.

Rock Climbers, Cheddar Gorge.

Where the brass bands play:
“Tiddely-om-pom-pom!”

or was he pushed? The other boot had washed up a few hundred yards further along the beach.

It’s times like these that I wish I had more than a phone cam…

I have driven past this nature reserve on many an occasion, opting instead to let the dog go mad on the beach. The tide was in this morning so I stopped off to see what was on offer. The ponds are what was once old clay pits for Glastry brick works which ceased to be in the late 19th century. The paths were a bit overgrown and after the rain of the last few days, soggy underfoot. I persevered until my feet were soaked. Wrong shoes for the job and with the swan and signets afloat on the pond, I couldn’t let the dog off lead for fear he’d want to swim. Swan was hissing at us as it was. I’ll go back for a better look on a dry day although I think the path is less than a mile long, it’s quite a pleasant spot for a dander.