I’ll take it off yer hands, Sparrer…
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Yer bee izz concerned about-a-lot, Hedgers, that ;
adds another layer. Gin, then - chin, chin!
Soo xx
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Don’t be fooled—it was just a Wilde guess
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That looks like serious cider. James White was the Suffolk equivalent, back in the day. Like that, still and cloudy. And lethal—8.7% if memory serves*. I’m fairly sure it’s the sort of thing Pratchett had in mind for scumble:
*Not a given, in the circumstances.
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Mornin’ all!
[annoyingly cheery tseep]
(Yes, all right, I was woken by That Dog too.)
yardarm
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Morning all
Ulster fries as it is the Sabbath
Grey and dank here
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Thank Gawd fer the Yardarm
I have been up, & not doing fer 3 hours
Yawn
Carinthia.xx
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We were woken by the DDD reacting to an idiot tinker ringing on the door (at nine on a Sunday morning and with all the blinds down) wanting to know whether I wanted to sell him my daughter’s car that is sitting on the driveway.
The DDD rushed out barking when I opened the door and it became apparent the tinker was afraid of dogs. “You won’t let him bite me?” he said. I said nothing, and she leaned against him (as I know, hoping he would throw a stone or do something interesting) until he had backed away from the doorway and given me the space to tell him what I thought of his stupidity. It started with, “Word of advice…” He left. I doubt he will be back, or that he will come and thieve from us and us with a savage dog.
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That would be a Tinkerbell, yes?
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There are advantages to living remotely
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But if someone does make it to your door, you’re so impressed you feed 'em?
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Yes wee birdie I do have a habit of force feeding folk
Though recently I have avoided answering the door till the elections are over
I do not want some eejit polly ticking at me
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To what? Or indeed whom?
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Now Joe be nice
I just offer visitors something I have cooked
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Odd sort of tinker who is afraid of dogs
I have been asweep fer 4 hours ! I felt an overwhelming urge to lie down on my bed, & have been drifting in& out of sweep to the dulcet tones of R4 …
Carinthia.xx
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She is a quarter Huntaway and has quite a bark on her! Also, she smiles, and anyone who didn’t know her would quite misunderstand her.
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I have also just had an unscheduled nap, but it was more of the after-pub-lunch sort.
While we were out, we realised that me Bruvver could expand into publishing Improving Tracts, to help people to live their lives in a better way. We could scatter them about where the unfortunate might find 'em useful. Possible titles include:
- So You’ve Just Bin Nicked. Wot Next?
- Grass Or No Grass: A Guide For People Wot Like Their Legs
Clearly this won’t bring in much money, but that’s just the sort of public-spirited bloke me Bruvver is
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Oh please ask your bruvver to go to the places where the born again types thrust tracts at you and sing hymns at you in the street
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We have had Mallard wars - clearly two factions and the Ducks are much more aggressive than the Drakes. Thankfully such fowl and belligerent scenes were preceded by a drive out along Loch Tay to Kenmore in sunshine and not in the driving rain and 40+mph winds that were forecast. We had chillified king prawns on skewers and I, eschewing tea, had an Opihr gin with Fevertree ginger ale, lime and slices of red chilli. It all hit the spot.
Soo xx
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