Sunday, June 24, 2007

Brewers of the Meteorological Ale,

I killed a greenfinch on the way home on Friday’s escape from work. The dead bird came home with me stuck in the grill of the car. What was I meant to do about that? ‘Get a brush’, he tells me. And leave it in the street? ‘The cats will get it.’, he replied. I wouldn’t have been so sad if it had been some other type of bird, which is wrong.

Saturdays have become strangely free. I did nothing and went nowhere, partly because of the rain. I tried to take advantage of “weather windows” to hang washing out to dry. My wardrobe has become rejuvenated due to my work. The Met Office website, to which I am addicted, warned of 30-80mm rainfall over 48hours. I’d like a dramatic storm and not slow, persistent stuff.

The BBC coverage of Glastonberry has been a disgrace. For such a huge festival – the biggest, they tell us – they are certainly making it seem quite narrow in scope. I don’t envy anyone going to T in the Park in a few weeks time, the line-up is just identical. I do fancy the Connect festival in September, but I would have to lose my duffer instinct first.

Dehydrated, I became after Sunday morning football. 2 to 3 litres are required to solve this.

I went along to Kirkcaldy just before another weather window closed, I walked along to see the seals. They have such varied coats; it’s quite interesting. The adults don’t do much; the pups are quite amusing in their play.

I watched some Mr Bean, two episodes that I hadn’t ever seen, on Paramount 2. I wonder if Bean would be broadcast these days. Some aspects are non-PC and in the over-sanitised land of TV, scenes like a sketch of a man shooting a light bulb from his bed with a pellet gun just because he couldn’t be bothered walking over to the switch would likely be vetoed. Not many programmes have a better theme tune than Mr Bean either.

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