My piss boiled over
brekkie as I got a message from my cousin that the Sun newspaper is
to stop the whole
"Page
Three"
thing.
How can they stop this?
Girlies flopping out their jubblies on page three is a British
institution. I knew I was grown up when I was older than the girlies
who were flopping them out, and I knew I was old when my daughter was
older than the girlies who were flopping them out.
I remarked on social
media that it was the end of civilisation, and took my dog for a walk
before the world ended.
We walked past where I
intend to hide the final part of my current Wheri-project, and then
on into the park. As I walked a passing normal person asked for my
ornothological opinion. She'd spotted a strange looking bird. My get
reaction was to advise her to tell it (in this new world order)
to put its tits away, but I was polite, and had a look. She had
spotted something unusual. It looked like an albino heron; being very
heron-esque in shape, but being completely white in colour. (Herons
are usually shades of grey). I then spent fifteen minutes trying
to take a photo of this unusual avain only to find that whilst my
back was turned "Furry Face TM"
had been rolling in fox poo.
I put a photo of the bird
on Facebook and was told that it was actually an egret. One lives and
learns. Mind you wikipedia says that egrets are the same as herons
(only white)
so I'm claiming a victory for my bird-watching skills.
I then spent much of the
rest of our walk remembering happy days at Red Lake Primary School's
bird club. As a child I spent many a happy lunch walking the fields
around the Red Lake part of Hastings; Mrs Wright would take twenty or
so of us out bird-spotting. Making enough noise to wake the dead we
never usually saw more than a few sparrows, but after "bird
club" we would all report sightings of eagles and
albatrosses. In fact on one occassion even an ostrich was alledgedly
sighted by a keen-eyed nine-year old.
We walked on to Singleton
Lake and then came home. As we got back so the snow started. I say
"started"; there was one flake but it was enough to
start an avalanche of panic on social media. No more page three *and*
snow really was seen as the end of the world.
As the world reeled in
terror I gave my dog his brekkie, and I settled down to solve a
rather tricky geo-puzzle. In the past I've found some geo-puzzles
which make reference to other geocachers by name. I've instinctively
disliked them; feeling them to be cliquey and elitist. However I was
told that a geo-puzzle which went
live yesterday mentioned me by name. I didn't see how it might,
but after an hour's head-scratching I found that it did mention me.
Now *this*
geo-puzzle isn't in any way cliquey or elitist. It's actually rather
good... unlike the ones that *don't* mention me specifically
(!)
I practiced my sax for a
minute, then having chucked a singing dog into the garden I practiced
for several minutes. "Blue Moon" is coming along
nicely. "Blueberry Blues" isn't.
The nice man from Everest
then came to give us a quote for a new back door. His quote was about
double what I was hoping to pay, but after all is said and done I
need a new back door. I had considered a cheaper brand but the
cheaper brand had the "advantage" that if I ever
locked myself out I could kick the thing open. And what is money for
if not to squander foolishly on expensive doors.
I treated myself to KFC
for lunch, and scoffed it whilst watching a DVD. "Bonded
by Blood" is based on a true story about Essex
gangsters. With KFC scoffed I watched the end of the film with my dog
asleep on my lap. I then fiddled about with Wherigos for a bit before
doing more ironing and a bit more saxing.
After a rather goood bit
of tea we went round to Somerset Road where the clans gathered.
Sausage rolls were scoffed, toilets tiddled into (!)
projectors set up, and we watched another episode of "The
Flash". I do like that show - I have yet to fall asleep
during it....
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