In theory I am required to work one Saturday morning every month. In practice it seems that there is only one Saturday morning each month when I *don’t* work. Last September I needed to scrape up more cash to pay for the replacement boiler. Working on Saturday mornings isn’t popular at work, even though it’s paid at time and a half, and a lot of my colleagues were happy to give me their shifts. They got a weekend off work; I (eventually) got my boiler paid for. Everyone was happy. However, somehow or other, people have since come to think that I like working Saturday mornings, and somehow feel insulted when I’m not keen to do their Saturday shift. So again I found myself up early for work today.
Still, if nothing else it will offset the credit card bill – which will be high this month with car servicing, MOT and road tax to be paid for.
I was particularly miffed to be working this morning as today I had the chance to have gone foraging with the tree huggers. Mind you, I suspect that I’m not in the tree huggers’ good books. Having gone to their quiz as part of a team named “Not Tree Huggers”, they’ve since sent ‘er indoors TM her membership card, but haven’t sent me mine.
Work was work, and on the way home I stopped off at the home-brew shop. I love that shop: always a friendly welcome, with chat and helpful advice. With Brighton Kite Festival only six weeks away I thought that the time was ripe to get five gallons of beer ready for that event. Five gallons sounds a lot, but we’ll be partying on Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights. And on the average evening I myself will sink over a gallon of ale. With ‘er indoors TM shifting about half that amount, five gallons doesn’t leave much beer in case of emergencies. I might just take a few bottles of beer along as well (just in case).
If any of my loyal readers are thinking about going to Brighton Kite Festival (and I can thoroughly recommend doing so), now’s the time to get your home-brew on the go for the evenings’ festivities.
Also on the way home I went back to the fishing tackle shop. Yesterday I forgot to get any bait. Whilst there I picked up a rod holdall. Already at a seriously silly discount (reduced from about fifty quid, it was up for sale at twelve quid), they then only wanted six quid for it when I came to pay for it. That was a result, and it will give the Rear Admiral somewhere to stick his tackle.
Talking of tackle, over the last week I’ve grumbled that I can’t find quill floats anywhere, and that I was going to have a go at making some. I tried to do so today, but gave up. The first attempt was an abject failure. The problem is that I start off with a feather, but I only want the quill part of it. Once I’ve cut off all the feathery bits, there’s not much left. But never mind: all I need are bigger feathers. Magpie’s bum feathers aren’t quite big enough. I just need to accost a goose or a swan. I suspect that will be easier said than done.
And this evening we celebrated a friend’s birthday. Drinks in The Pheasant followed by a curry, and then back home for a game or two of Uno. It was a really good evening – I’d forgotten all about Uno…
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