Wittering
It is Sunday afternoon and I am clicking around the internet, unable to think of anything to say to the world. “Can’t you witter?” says Maddie_C. “Ok, I’ll witter.” This morning I went to the newsagent to get a newspaper. I was rather pleased not only to get the last broadsheet newspaper in the shop…
It is Sunday afternoon and I am clicking around the internet, unable to think of anything to say to the world.
“Can’t you witter?” says Maddie_C.
“Ok, I’ll witter.”
This morning I went to the newsagent to get a newspaper. I was rather pleased not only to get the last broadsheet newspaper in the shop (and possibly Essex) but also that the newsagent was giving out the Daily Mail comedy DVDs free… with the Sunday Times. So thank you to the Daily Mail and the newsagent. Oh, and to the Sunday Times, though I don’t think they had very much to do with it.
I watched a little bit of motor racing on the television. They really should take things a little bit more slowly, particularly on the bends. But then I suppose the other guys would win.
Gardening. There really is no end to it, is there? Always a few more weeds to dig up or shrubs which have started overspilling and obscuring the window ledges. My lawn isn’t mowed to the edges. This is partly for environmental reasons, partly because I don’t have the tools for the job and partly because of the length of the flex. You don’t want to pull too hard on the flex.
I need to think of a design for a Christmas card. But what? Everything there is to say on a Christmas card has already been said.
Adverts. They are all rubbish.
“What else do I have an opinion on?”
“Everything,” replies Maddie_C. “Everything.”