I’ve just had two days off work: it rained constantly. Today I went back to work as the sun came out. I was so tempted to ask for today off as well, but I thought better of the idea. In retrospect I wish I had asked for the day off .
Enough of work: yesterday I mentioned that my box of stout was somewhat damp. I came home this evening to find that it has completely dried out. That was a relief. The thing is still bubbling away nicely, and despite the fact I’ve not tasted the first lot yet, I’m having ideas about what to brew up next. The idea of a barrel of porter for Xmas is appealing.
I had an email from Svetlana this evening. I’ve had several emails from her recently. Apparently she is nineteen years old, is “a man’s dream” and she is “looking for man to have a strong family”. She asked if I was too. Funnily enough I’m not “looking for man to have a strong family”. Not with my back (!)
She even sent me a picture of herself. She looked cold; it has to be said that when I pose for photographs I wear more than just a smile. She told me she was on-line and suggested we chatted, but I thought it best not to encourage her sort.
We could have had Chinese for tea tonight. A gentleman of oriental persuasion turned up on the doorstep and proudly announced he’d got my meal. I was quite happy with that until he wanted paying. I’d eat it if he was giving it away. He wasn’t. He claimed we’d ordered it over the phone. We hadn’t. He started a rant about how we had ordered from his restaurant, and when he eventually paused for breath I explained to him the difference between where he was (Beaver Road) and where he needed to be (Beaver Lane). For those not familiar with the area, the difference is just under a mile. He wasn’t happy with my explanation, and asked if I was sure I was in the right place myself. I thought I was being helpful by giving him directions to Beaver Lane
And then we settled down to watch the last episode of Downton Abbey. I love costume dramas and stories set in grand houses. Where the nobs upstairs have more money than sense, and the serfs downstairs are equally dumb for putting up with the nobs upstairs. Electricity, telephones and the war came to Downton Abbey this evening. It was a brilliant series. A shame it’s over, but I understand there is to be a second series next year. That will give me something to look forward to.
Regular readers of this drivel may recall I had a new leccie meter fitted a month ago. Today I received a leccie bill. It would seem that in one month I’ve got myself £112.27 in credit with the leccie people. I phoned them up and asked for one hundred of it back. They seemed quite happy with that idea. I’ve blogged in the past about how I’m financially stuffed at the moment, and that hundred quid would be very much appreciated. The fact that I’m probably going to spend it on home brew gear to make my Xmas porter is neither here nor there.
I also tried another way to recoup my fortunes today. One of my trainees at work is football mad. But not in the way that most football fans are. Instead he intently studies each team’s form and scoring records, and regularly predicts the outcome of matches with uncanny accuracy. By “investing” relatively small amounts, this chap often wins over a hundred pounds at the bookies with his skill. I asked if he’d “invest” a (relatively) small amount for me. Tonight’s prediction was that Everton would beat Bolton and that Swansea would beat Bristol City
With a tenner stake I could have made a profit of twenty five quid. If only Bristol City and Bolton hadn’t won. That’s ten quid down the toilet….
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