Up with the lark, and I got jiggy with the laundry whilst watching Al Murray DVDs. Socks don’t pair themselves up, you know. A dull job, but marginally better than lying wide awake watching the clock. And then to Asda. As well as lunch I bought coffee for tea breaks at work. Due to various health and safety considerations I cannot eat or drink in my workplace, and so for refreshment I need to actually go somewhere else for a cuppa. Consequently getting a break becomes a
I’ve finally bitten the bullet and admitted that I don’t like green tea. I’ve been trying various flavours of the stuff twice a day for the past year and it’s true - they all taste horrible. I started off on the green tea ages ago; I see that on 17 November last year I mentioned that I found a flavour of the stuff that wasn’t “utterly disgusting”. Since arthritis got a grip on my right knee last year I’ve been advised that green tea will help the pain. (Not that my knee actually hurts – it just makes an awful noise when I walk). However since I’ve started on the green tea, the only change I’ve noticed with my joints is that over the last few months my right foot has got particularly painful. I’ve still got the noise and now I’ve now got a joint that really is a problem.
So much for green tea. Today I bought a packet of instant latte. To be honest I can’t tell a latte from an earl grey. All I know is that the box looked impressive. The stuff tastes OK I suppose. It’s better than green tea at any rate. In four days time I shall buy a jar of Nescafe and a jar of coffee-mate.
I came home from work to find a scratch on my car. Or, to be precise, ‘er indoors TM noticed a scratch on my car. I would never have seen it, and for all I know it may well have been there for weeks. Whilst it’s a shame that it’s happened, I can’t say I’m really that bothered about it. After all, it’s only cosmetic. The car can still get me and a serious amount of luggage from here to there and back again. I expect the scratch happened in the hospital car park at some point. These things often do.
Meanwhile, just down the road from my house, the country’s biggest carp has died. “Two Tone” who weighed in at some five stone and was probably the same age as “Yours Truly”, has croaked. (Or is it frogs that croak?) Apparently there are several local people who blame that fish for their divorce, the men having wasted so much time on the pond side trying to catch the elusive leviathan. As far as I’m concerned that’s just another vote in favour of my preferred style of fishing – “tiddler bashing”. I can’t understand spending days waiting to catch one fish. When I’m fishing, if I’m not into double figures of fish within half an hour, I go home.