Brief update

Ah, back in London from a short weekend up in Foxton. My fault; I couldn't quite get going on Saturday morning and as usual made it to King's Cross just in time to spend the maximum time between trains.

Tra-La.

The little God-Hobbit has learned the art of the four-finger rake and perfected the technique on yours truly's balding pate to truly astounding effect.

Ouch.

In two or three weeks she will have a little brother or sister and therefore an apprentice. I view this with a more than a little trepidation.

Despite an excellent fight back against Everton, the Wolves are relegated. No great surprise with that -37 goal difference hanging like a millstone around the team's neck. Ho-hum. Having said that, out of the teams going down, I fancy us to be in the best shape to rebound, Leicester have only just come out of administration, and Leeds have well-publicised financial problems which will see them unloading their best players just to cut costs. Don't expect them to bounce back.

Tomorrow, to Croydon to pick up an unpainted model for finishing. I don't particularly like assembling resin garage kits and this time have left it to a professional. I shall now paint it, which is by far the more fun part as far as I am concerned. Assembling, trimming, filling and sanding just ruins my patience, careful painting, however does not. With paint and a brush, my patience can be virtually limitless. I am told by my friend that I should invest in better quality casts, and that they would be easier to build. But there you go. Painting is still the best bit.

As I type, Paramount 2 is broadcasting an old edition of Saturday Night Live. If there's one show on TV that is completely unfunny, it's that; quite why it is so popular in the US escapes me. The jokes are puerile and obvious, and the sketches laboured beyond belief.

I'm going to hide behind the sofa, now. I expect to be pelted with e-tomatoes from those of my friends from across the pond who will no doubt disagree with me.

Brief update

Ah, back in London from a short weekend up in Foxton. My fault; I couldn't quite get going on Saturday morning and as usual made it to King's Cross just in time to spend the maximum time between trains.

Tra-La.

The little God-Hobbit has learned the art of the four-finger rake and perfected the technique on yours truly's balding pate to truly astounding effect.

Ouch.

In two or three weeks she will have a little brother or sister and therefore an apprentice. I view this with a more than a little trepidation.

Despite an excellent fight back against Everton, the Wolves are relegated. No great surprise with that -37 goal difference hanging like a millstone around the team's neck. Ho-hum. Having said that, out of the teams going down, I fancy us to be in the best shape to rebound, Leicester have only just come out of administration, and Leeds have well-publicised financial problems which will see them unloading their best players just to cut costs. Don't expect them to bounce back.

Tomorrow, to Croydon to pick up an unpainted model for finishing. I don't particularly like assembling resin garage kits and this time have left it to a professional. I shall now paint it, which is by far the more fun part as far as I am concerned. Assembling, trimming, filling and sanding just ruins my patience, careful painting, however does not. With paint and a brush, my patience can be virtually limitless. I am told by my friend that I should invest in better quality casts, and that they would be easier to build. But there you go. Painting is still the best bit.

As I type, Paramount 2 is broadcasting an old edition of Saturday Night Live. If there's one show on TV that is completely unfunny, it's that; quite why it is so popular in the US escapes me. The jokes are puerile and obvious, and the sketches laboured beyond belief.

I'm going to hide behind the sofa, now. I expect to be pelted with e-tomatoes from those of my friends from across the pond who will no doubt disagree with me.