Gimble

I predicted this
Edited to add another link – Farmers Weekly

Last night we had a fire. It was a nice fire. I went and asked G the Human Dog to take his washing in as I was about to have a fire. He thanked me for asking and hinted that other people (the Good Life at the end of the lane with no name) don’t usually ask. So I set fire to a huge pile of confidential waste and felt good that I’d contributed to global warming.

While chucking stuff into the flames of hell, I came across some magazines. I mused on how magazines are, in fact, a huge waste of money. I mean what do you do with them once you’ve read them? You chuck them out don’t you? I used to keep my magazines. I have a huge box filled with issues of failed mens magazine Later, copies of Mad Magazine from the 80’s and the abruptly cancelled horror magazine Fear. I don’t really want to get rid of them but I’ve not looked at them in years. I tried re reading Mad but the humour was weak and very dated. I might just “donate” them to the recycling people. Later has some good recipes and man tips. Fear is a curious time capsule of reviews of straight to video movies. I’ll keep them I think.

I also developed a curious discomfort in my jaw. Kind of like when you eat something really sour and the back of your jaw goes all icky. Well I’ve got that. It’s not going.

Later last evening I caught up with Heroes. I was a bit miffed that the BBC in their wisdom had put Ashes to Ashes up against it. Sorry Aunty Beeb, the last series of Ashes to Ashes sucked monkey balls, besides which I’ve invested a lot of time into Heroes.

Luxury

While not typically one to milk luxury to an extent where it no longer becomes a luxury but a necessity. This afternoon, having finished my 3.5 hours of work for the week, I find myself once more sitting in the garden in the lane with no name opposite the field behind the lane with no name, using the laptop and enjoying a G&T with fresh apple juice. This is also accompanied by a rolling tin of tobacco, some cigarette papers and some filter tips.

Of course, the path to such decadence is not bereft without running the neighbour gauntlet. I am within earshot of the G (he of the human dog persuasion) family also lapping up the late afternoon sun which is dappled through the may and hazelnut trees which bulge with blossom and creak under the weight of the chorus of avian menace. I am also within sight of Mrs Owen who before I sat down to relax regaled me with tales of how the other neighbours cavil to her about where cars are parked (rather than confronting those responsible for parking) in the lane with no name and also how Brierley has succumb to a biblical plague of rodentia. Alas I am yet to witness any brown furry things.

And so my afternoon of idle draws to a close with the imminent arrival of Mrs Gnomepants who’s first question will be “And what have you done all day?”. “Fucked about in the garden” will not be my response.