Just to add to the fun of the weekend

[caddyman]

Some weekends are doomed, aren't they? Particularly Sundays.

I woke up this morning at the hideous hour of 7.05am. The power was out. It came back on at 10.45 or thereabouts.

So in the meantime I did the only sensible thing and went back to bed. At this time of year, although it is light at 7am, it is nowhere near light enough to do anything without the electric lightbulb. Especially in the stygian realm that is chez Caddyman.

So I get another couple of hours kip and then boil up some water in a pan for coffee (thank God for gas stoves). Then the phone call confirming that the Duxford won't happen. To be fair, that was largely my decision - it all kicks off at around midday and what with the trains and all I can't get there much before 13.00. In the height of summer that wouldn't be a problem, but they are only flying the vintage stuff this weekend and the light will be failing at 17.00. Paying £18 plus train fair and refreshments for a maximum of 4 hours entertainment, especially when there is a low cloudbase seemed a poor return for the effort.

Anyway, as the light got stronger, and the caffeine kicked in, I noted that the world had contrived to give me yet more evidence that I do not sleep at night so much as cease to exist for several hours.

A bunch of stuff had fallen off the computer during the night (it was precariously balanced is my wont) and clearly crashed onto the floor from a hight of about 4 feet. In true avalanche fashion, it had swept up my souvenir beer glass and several figurines and stuff, any one of which should have made a noise to wake the dead.

Not me. If it had been a week day I could easily have zombied off to work and not noticed until I came home in the evening.

Guess I'd better tidy up.

And then comes the ominous question of whether or not I dare go to the Turkish cafe for lunch...

Comments

[mollpeartree.livejournal.com]

I'd say go ahead and brave the Turks; my in-laws in Oklahoma have never failed to give me Thanksgiving dinner even when the annual Oklahoma-Nebraska game (bitter American football rivalry in which my old home team the Cornhuskers humiliate the Sooners year after year) happens before rather than after dinner. The trick is to adopt a "listening" mode rather than a "cheering/talking/smiling/appearing to notice that there's a game of some sort" mode.

[caddyman.livejournal.com]

In the end I did go.

As suspected there was a certain amount of grumbling, but since the game was drawn I got by with nodding sympathetically and agreeing it was a rubbish game.

It was difficult, though, keeping a straight face when they recounted their ejection from the pub; I was right - it was largely the indiscriminate use of the claxon indoors that frayed tempers.

I got s free coffee out of it, too!