Battered by Bert. We are being. Looked on the cctv at 6.13am. Cameras showed rain and I could hear it on the roof of the greenhouse. It’ll clear the snow off the ground in double quick time. Park Run is cancelled. THG gutted. A vengeful storm named Bert. Good name.
In typing that first paragraph I accidentally discovered that if you hold your finger on a letter on the keyboard it comes up with loads of variant options for that letter. Ęèéêëēėə for example. No longer will I have to mess around inserting special characters when typing mañana. Not that I use that word particularly often but you get the drift.
Now listening to Farming Today. Intensive farming and inheritance tax. Two separate subjects. Not the impact of inheritance tax on intensive farming. No Jeremy Clarkson fortunately. I would be switching off. Before that it was Clare Boulding walking and talking with the chief scout, Dwayne Fields. They were at Gilwell Park. HQ. Went there for the world jamboree some years ago when our Tom was in the Scouts.
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Bert is really blowing now. Blow Bert, blow and batter. If there are any leaves left on the trees they will soon be gone. Rain lashes the windows to the rear (estate agentspeak) of the house. A proper storm.
A full English is called for but there is no rush. It is a hunkering down kind of day. The kitchen is warm. The wireless is on, albeit at a slightly lower than comfortably audible volume. I’ll have it turned up a little.
There is cricket talk on the air. A somewhat anomalous feel to it considering the storm would stop play, not to mention the cold. Play delayed due to frozen pitch. The weather forecast that followed the cricket piece tells us it is very unsettled. The last of the snow is about to disappear from the greenhouse roof. THG, clad in a bright green waterproof coat has sallied forth to a shop to source.
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In the queue to buy Peter Kay tickets for the Isle of Man in February 2026. A quick off season city break when all the tourists have gone. Phone and laptop using two different IP addresses fwiw. 3 mins in and no sign of progress.
Now 28 mins in and only just over a quarter of the way. Must only have one cashier at the other end flogging the tickets. “Now where would you like to sit sir? There is a nice aisle seat here in row F”.
THG came back from the shops with a big box of Maltesers. Oh great says I. We can play marbles with them. Have you lost your marbles says she? No I’ve been eating them 🙂
After 68 minutes the Peter Kay tickets sold out. Didn’t get any. There are better times of the year to go to the Isle of Man anyway.