28 August 2012 (Tuesday) - This n That
I did the monthly accounts this morning. They could have been a lot worse. I shouldn’t grumble. There was a dodgy five minutes when I couldn’t find the astro club’s cheque book (the astro club owes me a squillion quid for the new club banners), but it was eventually found. It was in a very safe place. It was where I’d put it for safe keeping.
I then went up to town. Via a civic building to find a geocache concealed in it. The phrase “civic building” is deliberately vague – I’m not giving away any more than I need to (!) I then tried to pay the cheque from the astro club into the bank. The automated device wouldn’t have any of it, so I resorted to using the counter like everyone else. Interestingly the bank had a sign up saying that if you aren’t one of their customers and you want to use the counter for anything between 11am and 2pm they will charge you fifteen quid. I thought that was rather steep.
And so home via Wilkos where I got the ingredients of a bonfire beer. I know bonfire is still months away, but beer needs preparation. On the way home I met up with Martin who was also having a day’s skive, and we exchanged insults for a bit.
Once home I spent the morning attacking the washing basket. After a long weekend camping we had more washing than sense. Eventually I got the washing basket empty enough to put the lid on; but it took some doing. Whilst I washed I got the bonfire beer warmed up and into the mash tub. This brew is a best bitter with (hopefully) a subtle hint of banana. Just how subtle it will be is something that remains to be seen. I have a bit of a problem in that the DTP package I used to make beer labels doesn’t work any more. If any of my loyal readers might suggest a beer label designer, I am all ears.
Round to the Fudgery. With the “My Boy TM ” – mobile in the garage I’d offered to drive for the mission to take the pestilential pup for his pre-med shots prior to his knackersectomy. It turns out the poor pooch is in a bad way. He is a unibollock; only possessing one. There might be another which hasn’t dropped. The vet will have a rummage during the surgery. Poor Fudge. He also has a growth on his ear with is possibly cancerous, but is akin to a wart and is nothing to worry about. It’s easy for the vet to say that.
To lighten the mood I explained to Lacey about how you make rabbits. I explained how you stretch a cat’s head and glue on long ears and it turns into a rabbit. Lacey didn’t believe a word of it. Which was probably for the best.