Manchester Buccaneers

Gad, The Manchester Red Devils are not losers this season, after all.

See the official website of Malcom Glazer's Manchester Buccaneers.

Manchester Buccaneers

Gad, The Manchester Red Devils are not losers this season, after all.

See the official website of Malcom Glazer's Manchester Buccaneers.

Chatter

The Victoria area is quite quiet today. I like London best when there are comparatively few people around, rather than the seething mass of often sweaty humanity we often get, often in summer, and always around the big tourist draws.

The air is quite heavy. It is warm and breezy, but going dull. There is a slightly annoying level of humidity, but nothing too unbearable. I would be less than surprised if the rain was to hammer down a little later on this afternoon. And as I type that, the sun comes out again. My forecasting is as accurate as anything from the Met Office.

Today is one of those restless days. I don’t know what I want, but I want it now¹. What I have got, I can do without. Still, it’s the weekend soon, and I am off to parts rural, so that will be nice. Well, it will be nice provided that I can confirm that I had the chickenpox when I was but a nipper. I’m pretty sure that I did, and measles. Best check, though. It transpires, see, that the son and heir of the wallaboks household, one Panzer Max, has contracted said lurgey, and is quarantined from anyone likely to pick it up from him. I am more than 95% sure that I did the spotty, itchy stuff when I was about five. I used to have a little mark on the inside of my wrist left over from those days. It’s taken the biggest part of forty years, but just as it would have been useful evidence of my quondam suffering, it’s faded, and I can’t find the bugger. Maybe I dreamt it, though a dream of that duration would no doubt be symptomatic of something else (Wibble, wibble: hello, fridge).

Anyway, tomorrow is the Mayoress of Hobbiton’s third² birthday, so I go north armed with a cuddly Winnie the Pooh and a winning smile.

On a completely different tack, why is "marquee" called marquee?
Is it something to do with tents and tornado season in the US Mid West?

That’s enough for now: the Director is hanging around, so I’d best disguise my lack of activity more realistically.

¹Thank you, Sir Henry Rawlinson..

²I hope it’s number three….

Chatter

The Victoria area is quite quiet today. I like London best when there are comparatively few people around, rather than the seething mass of often sweaty humanity we often get, often in summer, and always around the big tourist draws.

The air is quite heavy. It is warm and breezy, but going dull. There is a slightly annoying level of humidity, but nothing too unbearable. I would be less than surprised if the rain was to hammer down a little later on this afternoon. And as I type that, the sun comes out again. My forecasting is as accurate as anything from the Met Office.

Today is one of those restless days. I don’t know what I want, but I want it now¹. What I have got, I can do without. Still, it’s the weekend soon, and I am off to parts rural, so that will be nice. Well, it will be nice provided that I can confirm that I had the chickenpox when I was but a nipper. I’m pretty sure that I did, and measles. Best check, though. It transpires, see, that the son and heir of the wallaboks household, one Panzer Max, has contracted said lurgey, and is quarantined from anyone likely to pick it up from him. I am more than 95% sure that I did the spotty, itchy stuff when I was about five. I used to have a little mark on the inside of my wrist left over from those days. It’s taken the biggest part of forty years, but just as it would have been useful evidence of my quondam suffering, it’s faded, and I can’t find the bugger. Maybe I dreamt it, though a dream of that duration would no doubt be symptomatic of something else (Wibble, wibble: hello, fridge).

Anyway, tomorrow is the Mayoress of Hobbiton’s third² birthday, so I go north armed with a cuddly Winnie the Pooh and a winning smile.

On a completely different tack, why is "marquee" called marquee?
Is it something to do with tents and tornado season in the US Mid West?

That’s enough for now: the Director is hanging around, so I’d best disguise my lack of activity more realistically.

¹Thank you, Sir Henry Rawlinson..

²I hope it’s number three….