In which case you weren’t doing 'em right.
That depends. Certain jobs, when done right, leave absolutely no trace.
Sometimes of entire neighbourhoods…
Particularly if you stash yer trophies in another person’s room [she muttered bitterly]
It does seem innocent but SIL would not be regarded, by most people, as someone who himself would be regarded as innocent. I love him to bits but to hear him talk…
Actually, I’ve just realised he reminds me very much of you Gus. Or you remind me of him, I suppose, in your DtA persona. He frequently talks of people who have annoyed him (and they are many) in much the same terms, only they are real people. Talking to him, one sometimes feels it would be very dangerous to trust him with sharp objects.
But he is a pussycat really, and lovely. Only you can say whether or not the same applies to you.
I’m not asking!
Aha! Another SIL clone.
I’ve just returned from seeing Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake. I need to sleep on my review The sets were great, as ever, but the royal ball was way too protracted (yes, I know; the score…).
Dispensing ‘likes’ hither and thither, I am glad to see TFM amongst us and to learn of accidental sofas and Hedgers’ steadfast allegiance to good old Cromwell, which I am supping with a splosh of soda water. Don’t kill me.
You can have wot you like, wiv or wivvout wot you like, Soo
Twellsy drinks hers wiv Bitter Lemon
I had to have an Snoozette earlier this evening -last night was failry rubbish, in terms of sweep
Have been deploying the Washeen, & have put fresh linen on my bed though, which is fairly knackerating ATM
A propos ‘knowing the score’, friends went to the Opera in Verona a few years ago & he was really annoyed that the 2 Italian women sitting in front of them were eating/drinking/smoking/talking loudly before it all started.
He was convinced that the evening would be a shambles
The lights on stage dimmed
Tealights were deployed to magical effect on the many stone surfaces in the ‘auditorium’
The orchestra struck up, & the 2 women delved into their shopping bags& produced complete scores from which they followed every note…
You need Gin & I need Vodka
Never a truer word, Carinthia xx Chin-Chin, Dearie.
We’ll spirit ourselves to sleep, mayhap. I have apprised myself of tomorrow’s Epistle and have placed my spec’s by the front door. Thankfully, the audience for my performance will likely be less critical than I feel about SL.
I have a code in da dose
Hot whiskey. May not actually cure it, but it makes life considerably less miserable.
I am glad to report that the crippling pain in my neck yesterday, caused by sleeping crooked somehow and cricking it, has mostly abated; but I am still going to be careful when I turn it to the right for a bit, just in case. Well, and because it twinges just enough to remind me, let’s be honest.
The direct route to the best dogwalks was going to be closed for resurfacing this week from Tuesday morning to Thursday evening, but they had some sort of crisis in a nearby town and the road from there to the same place was closed, so they are using the road from here it as a diversion from the road they are wrestling with there, and its closure has been postponed until next Monday morning – until Thursday evening again, which suggests they may be going to put in a bit more patchwork than they had originally planned. Personally I can’t see why they shouldn’t simply resurface it completely as they would do in for instance Germany, which would cost about the same in the long run: they have to put in patches at least twice a year on most of the roads round here, and some of the smaller ones are frankly impassible in a Mini much of the time because the holes are so deep they could break an axle and there is nowhere to steer round them, while the one road they did a proper job on from one end to the other about seven years ago is still smooth and unblemished and has needed no work on it since.
I intend to have a hot halfun or ten later Joe
Tis a tad early even for me!
Good morning, Cellarites
Sympathy for your sore neck, Fishers. The term ‘pain in the neck’ has a solid foundation, I’m afraid. Trying to watch yesterday’s ballet, I was seated behind a tall chap with a large head. Stage right was largely obscured. My companion magnanimously swapped seats with me at the interval, as Mr Large Head had a teeny little partner, over whose head I could peer. From a seated position, craning my neck is rather uncomfortable. The state of the roads, round here, is absolutely parlous. It’s guaranteed to turn Mr Bee into a GOG.
Also, sympathy for that there cold, Twellsy. Or, rather, you for having to endure the blighter. Rest, Parrots and Fluids (of the boring and innocuous sort) are prolly best. Azz you know.
Ach I know how to treat colds
I don’t have to LIKE it do I?
At least I can do a job I want done for tomorrow’s crafty group
Unpicking a skirt to reline it properly!
It seems to mean when one catches a cold just as the good weather starts. My sympathy.
And unpicking is rather dispiriting too…
Unpicking done now
Not too bad when I got a thread end and gently pulled
A gorgeous black chiffon with sunflowers printed over it
I have proper lining rather than the horrible nylon tube that clings to all one’s crooks and nannies
I am now on my hammock watching the birds
Disdain has moderate success, ime.
On arriving home, this afternoon, we discovered a leaflet from a party that neither ovvus supports. One ovvus ripped it up in a frenzy of loathing and then discovered that the other one’s postal vote wozz underneath and, therefore spoilt. I am not telling tales. I’m not.
Soo (inveterate voter) xx
You can get a replacement, apparently:
The one wot did the spoiling hazz agreed to vote in favour of the injured party’s preference (it wozz swithering, anyhoo). We have drawn a line under this. We have.
Thank you for the info, joe.