The sun is shining. It's Sunday. It's time for my favourite job of all time.
Yes folks, it's the blitz on the Garden time again.
I can't wait to get out there and mow the lawn. Standing in all the cat poo that has been deposited over the winter and is furtively hiding in the 3 inch blades of grass, just waiting for my size 9 foot to step in.
I can't wait to fight with my strimmer. The rogue cord that continually shoots back up inside the machinery. When it does appear it either snaps on a titanium blade of grass, or picks up the only pebble in the garden and olympically curls it through my kitchen window.
Then of course are the nettles and rash I have to look forward to, vainly driving miles to find a 'Doc Leaf'?
Not to mention slicing through the mower cable with the metal blade (thank goodness I have a surge protector fitted)
Of course, when it's all over, I have to go through the whole thing again, next year?
I am annoyed that I took the time to e mail the local paper and radio about a Dance we are doing later.
Trying to attract new faces to our great Dance. I opened the paper to find they had not bothered there asses to print it.
I do not know if it went on the Radio or not but I am p*ssed of with apathy. People saying they are going to do things and never do? Or worse, say they have and they haven't
I started to read a book about Barbara Windsor. I only got a third of the way through when I had to throw it out of the bedroom window. Apart from numerous abortions and sleeping around, I found her thoroughly disgusting? I suppose I should have shouted her catch phrase as I lobbed the book away.
'Gowon gerr owt'
Quality!
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