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Today I have mainly been v2

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Planning a "simple" landscaping job for an old friend tomorrow and realising I'm working for next to nothing. Have changed the job from my usual method in order to manage his irrational fears about damaging (non existent) utility pipes and it's all become a lot more complicated than it needs to be. Sigh....when will I learn?
 
Called to see my old mother, and looking out of the kitchen window could see the Shepherdess walking nonchalantly down the field, her flock following excitedly behind her. In her early twenties, 6' tall, statuesque, her long blonde hair loose, she was wearing a pair of stylish, slightly grubby, dungarees, her almost luminously pale arms and shoulders bare, her breasts gaily unrestrained, unabashed, the very symbol of youthful fecundity. Mother laughs in accord, and when she comes into the kitchen we tell her that she resembles some Greek Goddess of fertility. She laughs, 'even despite the sheep shit?' 'Yes', we tell her, 'even despite the sheep shit'.

Walking across the field, the thick, sweet, sickly stench catches the back of my throat even before I see them. The Shepherdess and a young vet are kneeling amongst the tall grass and docks in the corner of the field, concentrating on their grisly task. The ewe had been sickly for weeks, ever since giving birth to her two lambs, and despite constant attention, she had died the night before. Her head is bent back, the open eyes glazed. The Shepherdess looks up and offers a weak, ironic smile. 'Not so much of a Goddess now'. The vet is carefully lifting and prodding amongst the mass of tightly-curled intestines, excising samples here and there, photographing viscera with her cellphone. 'No visible sign of fluke,' she says, cutting into the liver, 'no worm'. 'But I've not seen this before, there's something very unusual about the mesentry. I'm going to photograph it and take some back to the lab, they've got more experience than me'. She is a diminutive twenty-something Malaysian girl, almost swamped in her protective green waterproofs and gloves. Crouched low over her subject, she looks up to me and explains that the organs don't merely flop around inside the abdominal cavity, but are held in place by the tissue that has offended her. As she does so, her left eye slightly narrows, and I notice a little dimple that appears on her cheek. I notice it again later in the yard as she explains some other techicality of her trade whilst sponging her waterproofs down with the frothy yellow disinfectant. She is intriguingly, fascinatingly pretty, and I reflect ruefully on the two opposing forces of nature that decree that it is spring, and I am old.

During their ministrations over the cadaver, the Shepherdess had told me that this might not be the worst of it. Three more sheep and four lambs had gone missing. I set out in search of evidential pathways through hedges, but a call eventually comes in from a woman who had retrieved them from the road much earlier, and had apparently herded them into her dog run. She makes her irritation relentlessly clear, and even deems to lecture the Shepherdess on her responsibilities. The Shepherdess, concerned and apologetic, makes no headway amongst the increasingly aggressive assault, and is eventually reduced to hurt, frustrated tears. We call on the help of a neighbouring farm manager, a Yorkeshireman well attuned to the vagaries of itinerant sheep. The house is set within several featureless acres of savagely mown lawn, a paradise to its owners, a vision of over-preened suburban hell to me. The now sulkily silent rescuer leads the Shepherdess to her sheep, and, in the dying light, we herd them home.
 
What an arsehole of a day.

1) Bloody kids

2) Washing machine decides to leak, I had thought I heard it leaking yesterday, but forgot. Didn’t ignore it today.

3) Sodding lack of sleep (see point # 1)

on the upside -
Yeti has had a full service, mechanic said the car is in good condition. Great, we have no plans to change it.
Finished the new sign for Headway charity shop. Pleased with it. Best one yet. Just have to burn a hole in it to hang it up. The Wife gave me a compliment.

time for some music
 
eternumviti said:
Called to see my old mother, and looking out of the kitchen window could see the Shepherdess walking nonchalantly down the field, her flock following excitedly behind her. In her early twenties, 6' tall, statuesque, her long blonde hair loose, she was wearing a pair of stylish, slightly grubby, dungarees, her almost luminously pale arms and shoulders bare, her breasts gaily unrestrained, unabashed, the very symbol of youthful fecundity. Mother laughs in accord, and when she comes into the kitchen we tell her that she resembles some Greek Goddess of fertility. She laughs, 'even despite the sheep shit?' 'Yes', we tell her, 'even despite the sheep shit'.

Walking across the field, the thick, sweet, sickly stench catches the back of my throat even before I see them. The Shepherdess and a young vet are kneeling amongst the tall grass and docks in the corner of the field, concentrating on their grisly task. The ewe had been sickly for weeks, ever since giving birth to her two lambs, and despite constant attention, she had died the night before. Her head is bent back, the open eyes glazed. The Shepherdess looks up and offers a weak, ironic smile. 'Not so much of a Goddess now'. The vet is carefully lifting and prodding amongst the mass of tightly-curled intestines, excising samples here and there, photographing viscera with her cellphone. 'No visible sign of fluke,' she says, cutting into the liver, 'no worm'. 'But I've not seen this before, there's something very unusual about the mesentry. I'm going to photograph it and take some back to the lab, they've got more experience than me'. She is a diminutive twenty-something Malaysian girl, almost swamped in her protective green waterproofs and gloves. Crouched low over her subject, she looks up to me and explains that the organs don't merely flop around inside the abdominal cavity, but are held in place by the tissue that has offended her. As she does so, her left eye slightly narrows, and I notice a little dimple that appears on her cheek. I notice it again later in the yard as she explains some other techicality of her trade whilst sponging her waterproofs down with the frothy yellow disinfectant. She is intriguingly, fascinatingly pretty, and I reflect ruefully on the two opposing forces of nature that decree that it is spring, and I am old.

During their ministrations over the cadaver, the Shepherdess had told me that this might not be the worst of it. Three more sheep and four lambs had gone missing. I set out in search of evidential pathways through hedges, but a call eventually comes in from a woman who had retrieved them from the road much earlier, and had apparently herded them into her dog run. She makes her irritation relentlessly clear, and even deems to lecture the Shepherdess on her responsibilities. The Shepherdess, concerned and apologetic, makes no headway amongst the increasingly aggressive assault, and is eventually reduced to hurt, frustrated tears. We call on the help of a neighbouring farm manager, a Yorkeshireman well attuned to the vagaries of itinerant sheep. The house is set within several featureless acres of savagely mown lawn, a paradise to its owners, a vision of over-preened suburban hell to me. The now sulkily silent rescuer leads the Shepherdess to her sheep, and, in the dying light, we herd them home.
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You could be a writer Jack London started at Mills &Boon.;)
 
Dismantling a garden arch and reassembling it by the back gate. Took longer than expected because some bits had rusted together and defied dismantling despite much WD40, swearing and brute force. Then dug up some offshoots of a shrub that has got too big for its boots.
 
First attempt at turning an old silk neck tie into a new silk bow tie. Quite pleased with the result, especially as I have recently bought a job lot of 100 neck ties on eBay for £25 with the intention of repurposing them in the same way.

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hifinutt said:
took MIL to see a FABULOUS mcarthy and stone place in Newton Abbot . wow ... built on the old hospital . its got libraries , lounges , laundry rooms , buggy rooms , spare room to put storage stuff in. what an amazing place . the warden was so friendly and helpful . well impressed i must say

M&S have had quite a bad press but having good experiences so far with call centres and support staff and everyone
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Friend of mine has been a very successful sales person for M & S. Watch out for the T's and C's - they can look impressively onerous - especially when you no longer need the property!
 
JensenHealey said:
Friend of mine has been a very successful sales person for M & S. Watch out for the T's and C's - they can look impressively onerous - especially when you no longer need the property!
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thanks have been looking into it a bit but any links gratefully received . we are having quite a bit of trouble finding somewhere . we found a FABULOUS place but now the mrs thinks a 1 bed is too small so thats on hold . so seems many of the retirement places have been sold to First Port and no longer macarthy . We have had MIL assessed only for M&S so needs to be them . First Port have the most appalling reviews , lifts out of order for weeks etc etc . very bad indeed .
 
Due to circumstances beyond my control I had long meetings in Croyden, then Bow and then Wimbledon, I am aware that re-arranged it would have been much easier.

Just popped the laptop away, it’s been a long day.

Cheers BB
 
eternumviti said:
How about 'effervescently'?
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You have reminded me of a David Mercer play on which I was the assistant editor some 40 years ago. One line in it was 'how's that girlfriend of yours? The one with t*ts like huge custards?' I remember Steve the editor (a very learned and much missed gent) finding this killingly funny. For the sake of balance there was another description of a bloke with 'knackers the size of walnuts.'
 
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