I’ve tried in vain to interest my second in command in history. Ideally, northern history, but I’d settle for a bit of East Midlands Ethelred.
Fortunately, though, she has (this very evening) acknowledged ancient Roman/northern Britain.
She does know that a man called Adrian built a wall.
It appears that my attempts to partially de-southernise my second in command may have failed on a collosive scale.
Apparently, the athletics on TV were interesting this evening.
After a meeting in Longbenton, with a metro back to town, I’ve just walked up Northumberland Street.
Now, I do like Newcastle. It’s a small big city and a lot of the buildings are pretty attractive. Generally, it’s a nice place.
However, most cities in the UK, most cities probably, have a nasty underbelly. Walking up Northumberland Street, I noticed a police car and van, parked close together. Then, on the opposite side of the street, I saw two policemen with a couple of classy gentlemen. They were both probably a lot younger than me, but looked as though years of heavy smoking and drinking, and god knows what else, had aged them prematurely. One was talking to the policemen and was quite animated. He was speaking loudly, but the increased volume didn’t seem to be helping the officers to understand him. The other gentleman appeared to be unwell, he was having problems with remaining upright.
Within a short distance, two more officers were chatting with another gentleman. One officer must have been cold, he was wearing purple gloves. He seemed to be embracing the man, who also appeared to have a desire to lie down.
And, now, I have arrived at my destination, the Town Mouse, where I can pass a little time with a very nice pint of beer. Almasty Pilsner on this occasion.
Well, a man shouldn’t waste an early finish.
This could possibly be my next project.
I do quite enjoy sitting in the garden, particularly with a beer after doing something constructive.
It’s not just about beer after work though; I like to watch bees go about their business. A picture of a bee …
The new shed looks a lot better now it’s been painted.
We could only fit in a 6×4 shed; anything else would have been too imposing. Looking at the two sheds together, the old one is pretty much three times the size of the new one.
In other news from the garden, the pair of woodpigeons are nesting in the tree again.
We have a new shed.
Next to the old one. A man can’t have enough sheds.
I do sometimes wonder whether yellow spiders, as in the Devendra Banhart song, actually exist.
Our spider has yellow stripes on its legs, so maybe that counts. He/she seems to have made its home in a corner of the ceiling.
According to the internet, house spiders can live for several years; months without food too. While I’m uncertain as to whether this is a house spider, I no longer need to be concerned about the lack of insects in our kitchen.
Our new spider disappeared the other day. I found myself to be concerned.
However, it transpired that it had traversed the spider continent of our kitchen wall. To seek the protection of Jesus, the guardian of the beer fridge.
That’s him/her, on the left. Just above the lamp. Here …
Thinking positively, I’ve finished the interior of the shed roof.
And primed it for one distant day in the future when the walls will be finished.
Alas, that day has slipped even further away than I’d planned. It seems that the damp-proofing of a couple of years ago wasn’t a huge success.
I’m now tasked with removing all of the two-year-old plaster from the offending wall (at least) and starting again.
I’d always suspected that more laborious solutions would be needed, but I was fooled by the lack of obvious damp in the shed.
It’s a shame that I can’t retrospectively sue the philanthropist (according to the internet) who built the estate behind our house. You’d have thought that the fact that we live on (almost at the top of) a stupidly steep hill would have discouraged further development, but the solution appears to have been to level-off the ground. Which resulted in our shed becoming something of an underground cavern.
Sadly, since the neighbouring houses arrived at the turn of the last century, it’s somewhat late to be lodging a complaint.
My desire to restore the shed might seem irrational. But it’s a lovely (damp) thing (with a new ceiling).
It’s raining, but I’m in the shelter of my (developing) man cave.