I am happy to announce it’s a typical British spring day. Rain, wind, and in the absence of Mrs Davies who is away visiting her mother, no jobs list. Whilst nothing is written down on the chores front that isn’t to say nothing is getting done. I’ve already dropped John off at hockey training, admittedly because otherwise he was going to be late and it suited me to head in that direction as it took me on to the post office where I had to pick up a recorded delivery letter followed by filling the car up with diesel as I have to take John to Sheffield this pm to play in a top of the table hockey clash.
That’s enough of the long sentences. My next job, unwritten, is to refill the bird feeder. The little loves have been pecking away and the level is running low. Adding seed as well as the suet balls seems to be attracting more of a variety. We are now getting blue tits as well as robins and blackbirds. Fair play.
There is a sound of shooting emanating from the TV room. John is back from hockey training.
With Mrs Davies away us kids get to do stuff. Mainly choose our own food. Last night it was burgers. Today I had planned a takeaway curry but there has been some murmuring of dissent from amongst the hockey playing community who voiced a preference for pizza. Doing both is very much possible. Tomorrow we have a pork joint and I’m going to cook it in the slow cooker. Might even do it overnight. In fact my next job will be to check out a recipe.
In the meantime the rain still falls, the wind blows harder and a storm is on its way. Ships pull into harbour.
The postman arrives. I don’t rush to the door to see what news the post brings. It is unlikely that there will be letters from far away places, descriptions of big game safaris or mundane communiques from far away relatives confirming another year where nothing really has happened.
Before refilling the birdfeeder I will have to put on some socks. Otherwise my feet will get cold.
I also need to buy some new guitar strings. Apparently. I will give an offspring cash to get some from downtown. I’ve already been down once, to get the recorded delivery envelope, which was a family railcard btw.
Cars flow steadily on the Wragby Road. I’m not sure it’s called “the” Wragby Road. Normally it’s just Wragby Road, Not any more. Adding a “the” gives it more status. Makes it more iconic.
I’ve just decided, seeing as it’s raining, to go out and bring the bird feeder in for reloading. Makes sense to me. I’ll just go and do that now. There will be a pause.
I’m back and there is news. I picked up the mail off the floor in front of the front door and two of the three letters were for me. One had a Nectar card that I’ve had to sign up for since East Coast trains was taken over by Virgin East Coast. The other envelope contained my tickets for the Ashes test in Trent Bridge. Yay.
I shall finish this post immediately and run off to tell the lads.
Ciao bebes.