Thursday, 31 March 2011
Wednesday, 30 March 2011
Tuesday, 29 March 2011
Monday, 28 March 2011
Sunday, 27 March 2011
Saturday, 26 March 2011
Oakchurch is where seriously rich go and shop, the rest of us go and look at the honeyed quails eggs, the caviar coated unicorns whiskers and chocolate coated fairies tears and marvel at how the other half live. It was then an opportunity to push Tristan around in his pram while buying some spring greens from the reduced shelf for Roxy and perhaps get inspiration for mothers day gifts.
Tristan had other ideas and from the moment we crossed the threshold of the cathedral to consumerism he made a sound like a crippled car alarm and refused to be consoled by well meaning old ladies who oooed and aaahhed over the noise. The leisurely stroll around the store became a 30 second sprint for the tills and as if by magic once we had paid a weeks wage for a manky savoy cabbage and wheeled the noisome sprog into the car park he settled and fell silent. Not daring a repeat performance we left before the police arrived.
Friday, 25 March 2011
I saw a Red Kite again today, strangely it was in a field looking like it was biting the heads of worms. Signs and portents.
Thursday, 24 March 2011
Wednesday, 23 March 2011
The Ryelands are doing their usual and feigning labour so prompting lavish attention from their bipeds. To date all we have for our TLC overdrive is this lively lamb called Berry. She is keen for others to arrive to play with. Meantime the waiting game continues!
Tuesday, 22 March 2011
Monday, 21 March 2011
Vic on the other hand took it into his mechanical mind to drive down the lane by himself. I had parked him after a long day in the yard, applied the handbrake and sought sanctuary in the cottage. Half an hour later after the Dolyhir Clan went mental I was prompted to look out of the window to see Vic not where he had been left but in the hedge. Thankfully the dozy Volvo is built like a M1 Chieftain Tank and only suffered a scratch to the bumper. We need a new fence though.
Sunday, 20 March 2011
So I sat back, Tristan on my lap to watch England win. Except I didn't, the TV picture went. A snowstorm of black and white where the teams should be. I waited patiently, no picture returned. Perhaps it was the TV, spare TV was brought down and put in place, same snowstorm. Sense of humour failure was imminent.
The transmitter might be down.
Tracey my beautiful and oh so patient wife suggested I go and check the Aeriel. As I could see it from the lounge I dismissed that idea, and any notion of checking the cable stretching 100metres to the booster box as a while ago I had relaid the cable, bought expensive connectors and buried the cable at key crossing points. It was the transmitter. So while the TV engineers were dragged out of the pubs to fix it I watched the game on the PC on a broadband link that's slower than a racing snail. The match was perhaps best watched this way, in a sort of stop motion film effect on a three inch screen as England's performance on a big screen in high definition would have been even more disappointing.
I went to shut the birds away when it was dark. Tracey asked me if I had done anything to the TV as the picture returned for a split second. Down in the chicken run a branch from the tree was hanging down so I moved it to get by. For some inexplicable reason this had decided to insert itself into the TV aerial box. Once it was removed the picture came back, so I did get to see France stuff Wales which was some consolation as it meant England won overall and I could hold my head up at work being the only Englishman in a Welsh office.
This little scrap above is now three weeks old!