Yers.
Speaking of which, I seem to have poured orange juice over my porridge this morning, instead of into the glass which was waiting beside the bowl.
It tastes … strange. Not disgusting, but strange. And rather too sweet, which is surprising. Not something I’ll be making a habit of, I don’t think.
‘Prannet’ w#rks well in such situations, I find.
Morning, by the way 
Soo xx
At a stretch and disguised my music Orange & Porridge could be used as rhyming words.
I was driving in my car.
It is not a Jaguar.
For breakfast I had some porridge
It’s turned my stomach rather orange.
… & as for ‘punnet’, well, really, the sky’s the limit.
I had great plans for mowing the back lawn today, potentially last time this year. I’m even clad in an old polo shirt & shorts.
I went out to see the condition & it must have persisted it down overnight. Properly squelchy. So … plan B. ‘Coast’ restaurant in Tarporley. A lovely, up-market small town in poshest Cheshire. It’s residents are known as ‘Tarporlins’, by everyone except themselves.
How very disappointing for you. The finest lunch is a poor substitute for cutting the grass. (Used you to be a nice boy?)
I was an altar boy till I was 16. Make of that what you will Gus.
Judging by the ones I’ve met, “no”, then.
I’ve been making things go FIZZZzzzzzzzzz
Cleaning jewellery components. Wiv handy kitchen chemicals. Very satisfying.
Washing/Laundry going on here
A bright & windy day but I have felt quite cold
Carinthia.xx
We have beautiful tongue and groove as a ceiling on the underside of the half loft going up
The central telegraph pole being a decorative feature has GONE
As has the half tree
Severial spiders have been disturbed
And are they clean now, Gus? Or have they dissolved into atomic components?
As regards washing, we put some stones in water just to see what it would do, and the water it got stony and the stones got watery too; so we put some Crocs in water just to see what could be seen, and the water it got dirty and the Crocs they got quite clean. Never had shoes that went through the washeen before (denim wash, cold).
Wood ceilings are excellent, as far as I am concerned.
The atoms have separated a bit, in that molecules of tarnish have buggered off with the FIZZZzzzzzz, gone down the plug’ole and been replaced by atoms of faint gleam. OK, a cotton bud and a Hagerty cloth were also involved, but…
And who’d have thought one could submerge a Croc, eh?
Well, that was just weird.
My house is 100 yards or so down a side-street off an A road in an inner London borough (admittedly at the outer edge of said borough). When I stepped out of the front door a few minutes ago, there was total silence. No cars, no footsteps, no voices, no nuffink. Then the faint sound of a plane was audible. Just before I got to the top of the road, I heard a car, and then there were several cars and then all became normal again.
But it was very strange, and not entirely pleasant.
“Quick, she’s coming out! Start the grams and put up the flats again!”
< sticks tongue out in vulgar and childish fashion at That Sparrer >
Not at all pleasant.
How very weird. Village of the damned stuff.